Dragon Ball Z 1. A New World

Disclaimer: I, Summer Starr, don't own Dragonball Z, and am in no way connected to that lovely establishment. My collaborator in this fic-writing experience, Deanybean, also does not own Dragonball Z, and is in not connected to them, either. That being said, neither of us are making any money off of it, and are probably going to piss off a lot of people, so even if you wanted to print this out and burn it in classic burning book style, the only one who's making any profit is the paper mill.  
  
Warnings: Yaoi. Explicit stuff here, folks. Alternate Universe. Nothing's gonna be as ya really expect it to. Odd Pairings. Vegeta/Yamcha. 17/Trunks. Plus others to be determined. Partner switching. Heterosexual lemons, as well. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!  
  
Kingdom Come ~ Prologue  
  
The air was crisp and clean. The sky was still light, though it was very late at night. Dende smiled as he looked down at the world below. The earth truly was a blue jewel, filled with sparkling life and vibrancy. Trunks and Goten shot up over the rim of the Lookout. Behind him, he could feel Piccolo's presence, and even further back, he could hear Yamcha's shout of greeting. Turning his head slightly, he saw Krillin and Bulma running forward.  
  
"Welcome." Dende said happily to the two grown demi-Saiyajins.  
  
"Man, am I glad you're letting us do this," Trunks exclaimed. "You're gonna love this! New Years is THE BEST!"  
  
"Food!" Goten shouted in cheerful abandon. "Drinks! Fun! Friends!"  
  
"And friends!" Trunks echoed.  
  
The three of them walked to join the rest of the group. Food was in abundant supply as Bulma and Trunks produced capsule banquets, and Mr. Popo supplied them with even more.  
  
"Where's Gohan?" Krillin asked, realizing the powerful Son was no where to be seen.  
  
"He's playing super-hero with Videl. And they are not being very nice to each other it seems. They no longer know how to work together," Piccolo replied from his vantage point on the rim. "Pan is at her grandmother's. Chichi is spoiling her."  
  
"Oh, well, she is a grandma now," Krillin joked.  
  
"Yeah, but I wouldn't tell it to her face," Yamcha laughed. Others, who heard the comment, joined in.  
  
"And it appears that Vegeta is on a solo 'training' session," Piccolo observed. He noticed Yamcha's slight quirk of interest, as if the Human were curious about fighting styles and techniques. Piccolo knew better, though. Humans were so easy to read. Just as he knew Bulma's slight flinch and then bright smile was like that of a person who knew that they were trying to hold onto something that would never really belong to them. She then turned to the closest party attendant, who just happened to be 18, and began a conversation with her.  
  
The aerial world around them darkened quickly. And then began the anticipated show. There were no clouds that night, so the view was unobstructed. Fireworks lit up the earthen sky like thousands of flowers blooming in rapid motion. It was nothing amazing to the crowd gathered at the Lookout, in fact, it was rather ordinary and plain. But each shimmering blossom of light and sound was something beautiful and special and was a small reminder of childish joy. Even Mr. Popo gasped in wonderment.  
  
As the night reached late, Yamcha looked up to take stock of the food and noticed two people were curiously absent. Trunks and Goten. He caught Piccolo's eye easily, and indicated the problem. Krillin noticed their quiet departure from the somewhat noisy crowd and snuck away from the party himself.  
  
"Hey, guys, what's up?" Krillin asked.  
  
"Trunks and Goten are missing," Yamcha replied. "I wonder what kind of trouble they're causing. I swear, I thought they'd grow out of it when they grew up, but no!"  
  
"I sense them. They're in the Vault," Piccolo interjected, breaking into a run. "There are a lot of very dangerous items in there. If they break anything, there could be Hell to pay. Literally."  
  
The three warriors skidded to a halt just outside of the Vault. The door was open. Piccolo was the first in, praying that nothing had happened to the two young fighters. The New Year was almost upon them. Yamcha and Krillin were a mere step behind him.  
  
Inside the room, the two were pulling a sheet off of a strange piece of ... something. Trunks said, as he grinned at his life-long companion, "Goten, we'll put the sheet on the ground for cushion. You know how I hate the cold."  
  
"Trunks! Goten! STOP!" Piccolo demanded. Outside, the sky was dark with only brief flashes of fireworks and the enduring light of distant stars.  
  
The two curious fighters, though grown, still knew that voice and turned to face it's speaker...  
  
...just as the sheet fell  
  
...just as Piccolo, Krillin, and Yamcha disappeared.  
  
...just as the New Year hit.  
  
***  
  
Disclaimer: Neither I, Summer Starr, nor my co-author, Deani, have anything to do with Dragon Ball Z. This is a work of fanfiction of the slash variety. If thou hast any problems, I suggest thou turnest away now.  
  
Kingdom Come ~ Chapter 01  
  
The sun had risen against the far horizon, but shadows still claimed the Lookout. The air was cold and almost lifeless, as if the very wind was suicidally depressed. A single form flew through the air, and it was evident the Lookout was his destination. He flew in with the dawn, the sun at his back so it would not dazzle his eyes. His long mat of white hair snapped like a flag blowing in a strong gale as his form cut through the sky.  
  
"This is ridiculous!" The armored warrior grumbled, but no one was there to listen. "No one could possibly be at those ruins, except for Trunks. Yeah, he's probably hiding out. Too bad the satellites caught movement there. I bet something fell and killed him. I bet that's why there's no reading on our scouters. This is so stupid!"  
  
By the end of his grumbling tirade, his feet were hitting the broken tiles of the dead palace. Streaks of light were just touching the tops of broken structures, and the brown, crackling limbs from long dead trees howled as his landing caused a rough breeze. With a huff of annoyance, the short warrior scanned the place using his headset. There wasn't a reading.  
  
"Just my luck, I get sent on this fools errand and the only thing I find are dust bunnies."  
  
"Oh, I don't know. Don't dust bunnies make good pets?" a strange voice called out.  
  
The warrior spun around and saw a short human male in dusty pants and a blazing red shirt. What was this? Was he asking to be a target? Just as the armored warrior was about to take aim, putting the pathetic human out of his obvious misery, another voice rang out.  
  
"Yeah. They make excellent pets. Very low maintenance." It was another human male. This one was taller, scarred, and in yellow pants and jacket with a white shirt. Both had black hair, but they were obviously not related to each other. Even the warrior, as unskilled as he was in differentiating between humans, could see that. Obviously, they wanted to be found. Most of the humans knew enough to wear dull colors and to hide. Were they starting a new rebellion?  
  
"Humans! I don't know how you survived the culling of your race, but it doesn't matter! By order of the Emperor of the Trans-Galactic Empire, I, Jeice of the Ginyu Force, will remedy that oversight!" The red skinned warrior said as he struck several poses. With his last stance, he added, "Time to die, Terran scum!"  
  
"Ginyu Force?" The short one asked. "What are you doing here? Didn't Goku kill all of you?"  
  
"I don't know any Goku, but I assure you that I am very much alive!" At which point, Jeice attacked. Or, at least, he tried to.  
  
They were pretty well matched for height, which was a rarity in both of their cases. But as strong as Jeice was, and as fast as he was, the short human effortlessly blocked every punch, every kick, and every blast of energy thrown at him. All while seemingly not moving from where he stood on the broken tiles of the old floating ruins!! Jeice grew agitated at the continued grin on the short human's face, but nothing he did would wipe it away. It was even more disconcerting to realize that the scouter indicated that if there was a person in front of him, that person had a reading of absolute zero, which was impossible considering the force at Jeice was attacking with. When it became obvious that Jeice wasn't making any progress, he back flipped away from the still amused human.  
  
"Who are you people?!" Jeice demanded. Irritatingly obvious, the little human hadn't even gotten the slightest bit winded.  
  
"I'm Krillin. He's Yamcha." The short human said as he indicated first himself, and then the other human. "And the guy standing behind you is Piccolo."  
  
"Oh, like I'm going to fall for that old trick. Nice try!" Jeice snorted.  
  
Yamcha and Krillin shared an amused look before they both began to snicker. Jeice looked between the two in disbelief. Were they completely cracked? Did they actually expect him to turn around so that they could ambush him from behind? But. on the other hand, what if there really was someone behind him. Figuring he'd regret it later, Jeice turned around to look. He found himself at eye level with a band of blue-green cloth. Gulping slightly as he took a step back, he looked up. And up. And up. The scouter indicated that no one was standing in front of him, but Jeice did have eyes, and he could see well enough to know that this Piccolo person was trouble. He wasn't human. In fact, Jeice had no idea what he was.  
  
"I think I finally get what you meant by 'same place, different earth,' Piccolo, but. how different can it really be?" Yamcha asked.  
  
"Obviously, earth has been invaded." Piccolo's deep voice caused Jeice to nearly pee in his pants.  
  
"Yeah. With no Goku around, it was a sitting duck," Krillin agreed. "Seems like earth is under the rule of this emperor. I'd say it was pretty different."  
  
The three strangers shared a moment of silence between them, during which time Jeice tried to size them up. It seemed that the large green man, Piccolo, was their leader. Krillin was powerful, so that probably meant he was second. And that left Yamcha. The third member of this odd trio had done and said little, leaving Jeice to conclude that he must be the weakest.  
  
"So, where do you come in?" Krillin asked, suddenly closer to the armored warrior than the attacker remembered him being.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Why are you here?"  
  
"This is where the Imperial Palace is. This is where the Emperor is. This is where we belong."  
  
"We?" Piccolo asked, or rather demanded.  
  
Jeice was a bit put off, but if he was their leader, and the short one was a match. Jeice began to fiddle with his scouter, trying to fix it if it had been damaged somehow. "The best fighters in the universe come here, hoping for a chance to prove themselves good enough for placement in the Universe Tournament of Martial Arts. But the Emperor only picks the best."  
  
"Really?" Yamcha asked as he looked at Jeice and then the other two. "A tournament of martial arts?"  
  
"Hmmm, this would give us a chance to see what is going on here. And since it's obvious that they know of our presence here, it seems pointless to try and hide." Piccolo said as he hovered in the air. He turned his head, scanning the horizon. With amazing accuracy, he indicated the way to the palace. "There."  
  
"Right!" the other two said just as they were about to take off.  
  
"WAIT!" Jeice screeched after them. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"  
  
"Going to go register," Yamcha replied.  
  
"You can't register! You have to be sponsored," Jeice spat. Didn't these idiots know anything?  
  
"Then you'll be our sponsor," Piccolo stated, as if his word was law.  
  
"Like hell I will! I was sent here to fight and kill you, not invite you to make a fool of me in front of the royal court! Now, FIGHT ME!!"  
  
The three of them shared a look before the smallest resettled on the grounds of the dead complex. He put his hands in his pocket and tilted his head to the side. "Listen, there's no real need for us to fight. Why don't you take a look through your scouter and THEN decide if you still want to fight us. I promise you, it isn't broken."  
  
Jeice narrowed his eyes as he complied. He pulled the eye piece up and began reading. Then, as if by magic, the little human's energy signal began to rise. And rise. And rise. With each passing heartbeat, Jeice's world cracked a little bit more. And then the scouter broke. Jeice cried out in shock as he took a frightened step back. "This. This can't be real!"  
  
"So, do you still want to fight?" Krillin asked dryly.  
  
"N-no. Not really."  
  
"Good!" Krillin smiled. "In that case, take us to your leader!"  
  
***  
  
Dark eyes scanned the main room. Without bothering to look, the guard knew that blue eyes were watching him and everything else in the room. There was a crowd growing, but that was to be expected after Jeice's last transmission. He was bringing some HUMAN fighters to enter the tournament! The Emperor was going to be here soon, probably to torment the red-skinned warrior. Burter was not pleased by the idea that his best friend was going to be humiliated, but there was nothing to be done about it.  
  
The dark blue amphibious warrior turned his head to acknowledge the entrance of Recoom and Guldo. "He's almost here. Do you read the three small readings traveling with him? I'm surprised they can fly."  
  
"What do you think Jeice was thinking?" Guldo spat disgustedly. "Did they grab him by the balls and force him?"  
  
"You'd have to ask the Palace Ghost about things like that," Recoom snorted causing several within earshot to break out in menacing snickers.  
  
"He's going to shame us all," Guldo muttered, un-amused.  
  
Soon enough, Jeice arrived with his three prospects. The three other members of the Ginyu Force looked on with somewhat blank faces. With wary glances all around, Jeice walked towards the front of the room. The two humans were unabashedly gawking at everything, but the tall green man with the turban and cape simply walked forward, confident, observing without making a spectacle.  
  
"So, these are the guys you wanted to bring in front of the Emperor?" Recoom sneered.  
  
"Yes," Jeice shrugged, obviously uncomfortable.  
  
"They don't look that tough to me," Recoom continued.  
  
Burter was known for his speed, and he knew what was coming, but even he almost missed it. Recoom's least powerful attack shot through the air with dazzling speed.  
  
And was caught! Effortlessly!  
  
The large green man smirked as he sent the blast racing back to its creator. Recoom took the hit full force in the center of his chest forcing the large man to fall back a step.  
  
"Things are not always as they appear." The deep voice of the green warrior practically vibrated through the room.  
  
"Obviously," a new voice rang out in the room.  
  
Everyone, save for the three newcomers, immediately bowed. Their voices rang out in desperate awe, "All hail the Emperor! Lord Kakarrot!"  
  
Kakarrot grinned feral at the stunned expressions on the three strangers' faces. He wore a luxurious red and gold uniform, sans his needless armor. His long brown tail curled up behind him, free and confident in the knowledge that no one would dare touch it. His black spikes were captured in a wide, crown-like band of red cloth that matched his belt and shoes, strangely reminiscent of the color of fresh spilt blood. Over one eye, he wore a standardized scouter, as did all of his people. Close on his heels were his two personal guards, his two sons, and other Ginyu. Trailing a bit further behind them, but looking no different than any of the Ginyu, was Vegeta.  
  
"So, Jeice, these are the ones you want to sponsor in the tournament? I must say I'm beginning to doubt your sanity on many levels," Lord Kakarrot asked with a sneer. He was unimpressed by the new comers, yet that did not leave him closed to new ideas.  
  
"My Lord and Emperor, I assure you they are very worthy to enter the contest," Jeice said as he continued to look at the ground.  
  
The others took even more of a serious look at the three strange warriors even as they returned the appraisal.  
  
Gohan wore a simple guard's uniform, the only indication of his rank being the royal emblem on his chest plate. His brown tail was also curled up behind him, but he had positioned himself so that no one would have the opportunity to grab it. His eyes raked over each of the newcomers carefully, his head held high and disdainfully. As head of the Imperial Guard, Gohan was supposed to assess the likelihood of danger. and he found it lacking in the two humans. The other one, however... Something was there that was of great interest to the demi-Saiyajin. He ran a hand through his short black spikes arrogantly, almost posing as he felt the tall, strange warrior's gaze size him up.  
  
"Jeice, all of our scouters indicate their power levels are not high enough to even survive the first round of the event. How would it look if your first, and only, referrals were to die before they ever got a chance to win you any honor?" Kakarrot asked, not really expecting an answer.  
  
Piccolo surprised everyone by taking a step forward, and speaking up for the smaller alien man. "Sometimes, it's the things you least expect that strike you down in the midst of battle."  
  
"Is that a challenge, green man?" Kakarrot said, licking his lips in hopeful anticipation of a fight.  
  
17 stood behind and to the side of the Emperor, his smooth black hair tied in a ponytail and his black guard's uniform almost glistening in its pristine cleanliness. His glacial blue eyes scanned the trio with what amounted to disinterest, though nothing could be more false. He was Kakarrot's personal guard, and there was nothing that he missed. Not even the blue eyes watching them all from afar.  
  
"Is it so undesirable for you to imagine that strength exists outside of your ranks?" Piccolo asked coldly, his eyes narrowing.  
  
Yamcha had to cut in, knowing that this was going to get them killed, and he'd rather live to find a way back home. "Uh, we mean no offense, your majesty. If you find us lacking in ability, then we'd be just as happy to watch the tournament, maybe... uh... from... the Ginyu... box?"  
  
18 stood close to her brother, her blond hair falling free to frame her face. Her black uniform showed off her feminine figure beautifully, but left nothing unprotected. As her gaze drifted over the strange humans, she caught the smallest one staring at her the hardest before he blushed and turned his eyes away.  
  
18 didn't miss him leaning ever so slightly over to his scarred companion and whisper encouragingly and with the smallest trace of relief, "Very nice."  
  
Vegeta, the once Prince of all Saiyajins but now nothing more than a glorified prisoner, scowled deeply as he scrutinized each of the Terrans. The short one met then immediately averted his eyes, while the green one did not waver in his. The middle one -- the one with all of the scars -- wasn't even looking at him, but more at the ground. As if he felt Vegeta's stare, he glanced up suddenly, his eyes connecting with the former prince's. Vegeta's tail tightened around his waist when he realized a spark of recognition had lit in the human's orbs. Then the man gave him the slightest of smiles. Vegeta hadn't had a smile directed at him since he was very little, and he was a bit taken aback by the action. Further confusion set in when the scarred man quickly looked away, his cheeks darkened in a light blush. The former prince turned away from the human then, somewhat disturbed by the sudden feel of something long thought dead inside of him trying to stir back to life.  
  
"Let us not delay on this topic, one of you may fight in honor of Jeice's original offer, but the rest of you must remain out of the tournament... you may consider yourself 'guests' here. I prefer my sports to last longer than what one might consider their last heartbeats. There, that ends this trite discussion," Lord Kakarrot said, dismissing the newcomers with a wave of his hand.  
  
Goten stood off to the side. His place was not needed outside of the dungeons, but when the call came in that Jeice had found a group of Terrans he wanted to sponsor in the tournament, his curiosity was piqued. Goten couldn't remember ever seeing a human warrior before, most had been killed in the purging of the planet long ago, leaving only the females as mostly breeding stock. His black uniform hugged his body just as his tail did. Dark eyes remained fixated on the tall green warrior, sometimes glancing at whoever was the object of his assessment. Goten didn't even notice the quick exchange between Yamcha and Vegeta, his eyes only fixating on that slight frown of disapproval washing over and then away from the caped warrior's face as he looked at Gohan. Could it be? Someone as seemingly intelligent as this warrior was not impressed by the golden heir, Gohan?  
  
Goten checked his scouter. Again. None of the trio had any energy signatures, not even the tall one. Goten was still puzzling this over as the object of his concern turned to look at him. Once he was caught in the penetrating stare, Goten forgot how to breathe. He felt as if he were not only naked standing in the middle of court, but that the strange warrior saw more than just his bare body. As if his soul was laid out and was being dissected. and found lacking, if the other's expression was any indication. When the eye contact was broken, Goten found himself flushing enough to match his father's crown.  
  
Gohan stepped forward then, looking at the trio, "And do these... guests... have names?"  
  
"I am Piccolo," Piccolo said. Tilting his head to the side, he added his former title as well, "The Demon Lord."  
  
"I'm Krillin. I'm a monk. Or, I was a monk," Krillin said, his eyes sliding ever so briefly to 18, almost regretfully before he looked at the ground again.  
  
"I'm Yamcha." The scarred warrior considered for a minute if he should add anything to that. Sure, he was once called 'the Desert Bandit', but he wasn't about to admit he'd been a thief while in a palace full of not-so- friendly people. "Just... Yamcha. I... don't have a title."  
  
"Perhaps, My Lord," Gohan continued, a slight smile dancing across his otherwise severe expression, "our guests might require someone to ... accompany them during their stay. Just so that they DO, indeed, make it to see the tournament."  
  
"I agree," Kakarrot said as his eyes appraised the Terrans again. The tall green one was obviously someone who might challenge him, so his guard was automatically selected. With a cruel smirk, he turned his attention back to Jeice who had yet to rise from his position. "Jeice, who would YOU suggest guard these ... guests?"  
  
"Your three strongest guards, my Lord," answered Jeice more quickly than Kakarrot would have liked. "Their strength is not inconsequential. However, this is only my opinion as your humble servant, my Lord."  
  
"Wise words from a silly guard," Kakarrot nodded, "But I think not. I don't suppose anyone would care to volunteer?"  
  
"Or perhaps," he added, the sneer returning to his face, "our guests would like to choose their own guards from our ranks."  
  
"My Lord," 17 said quietly, his voice empty of everything, "I would like to volunteer to watch our Demon Lord Piccolo."  
  
"Truly, 17?"  
  
"Yes. It may prove... entertaining."  
  
"As you wish," Lord Kakarrot allowed, knowing that the synthetic man was one of his best fighters. He was left regretting the loss of a good sparring partner, for it would be impossible to recall him after the android had volunteered, though he did not regret the loss of an annoying shadow that followed him around. Why did his guards do that, anyway? It wasn't like there was anything in the universe that could truly hurt him, other than his sons, but that was a day in the far distant future. "Does anyone else wish to volunteer?"  
  
When no one did, Krillin looked at Yamcha and made a slight, almost imperceptible shrug. Then, he turned to the contorted face of one of his best and oldest friends and said, "Your majesty, highness, uh, Lord Kakarrot, if it won't be too much of a burden, could I request the pretty lady standing behind you to be my guard?"  
  
"Why not?" smirked the royal. Another shadow transferred to someone else. "Why not, indeed? 18, if you don't mind..."  
  
"Of course not, your majesty," 18 said coolly, her voice almost as emotionless as her brother's, though hers held the slightest razor's edge of contempt. "I don't mind at all."  
  
Yamcha chewed lightly on his tongue. He knew precisely who he wanted to choose, but choosing Vegeta didn't seem like such an obvious choice as singling out the solitary female in their midst, as Krillin did. His eyes flitted from face to face, unsure of his move, but finally, they settled on the short saiyajin once again. Lifting his arm and pointing, he quietly uttered a single word. "Him."  
  
Vegeta closed his eyes in embarrassment. He was now forced to this? To guarding pitiful humans? There was a stir in the gathered crowd as the others began to gossip about the chosen guard assignments. The others could understand why 17 had volunteered, none had missed the underlying threat in Piccolo's earlier statements. 18 was a good soldier, and one who enjoyed playing with the men who thought she was merely pretty, not acknowledging her deadly combative skills until it was too late. But Vegeta knew that the other guards laughed at how far he, Prince of All Saiyajins, had fallen.  
  
But none laughed louder than the emperor. The grin that would have lit up Goku's face instead twisted Kakarrot's into something unnatural. "You have chosen well, human," he chuckled. "Your choice pleases me. Vegeta will be your guard." 


	2. Same Time, Different Place

Disclaimer: I, nor my co-conspirator Summer Starr, have any rights to DBZ, etc. And if those bastards who do in fact own the rights had half a brain, DBZ would start up again as the anime version of 'Queer As Folk'. As for this chapter, you folks know what to expect from me. Nothing but the utmost in fluff and romance. What can I say? I can't stand a lack of love. Life's a waste without it. And for you folks that are shunning or shying away from this story: what the fuck is your problem? Just because it's out of the norm doesn't mean you shouldn't read it. Variety is the spice of life, or something like that. By the way...  
  
WARNING: This work of fanfiction includes YAOI. That means male/male pairings and/or sexual situations. If that makes you uncomfortable, go play with your fucking Barbie dolls.  
  
Kingdom Come ~ Chapter 02  
  
Piccolo looked 17 over, noticing subtle differences between this male and the android from their reality. Krillin studied 18 as if she were something the short man was considering purchasing, walking around her to make sure he took in all of her differences. Yamcha seemed to be mostly interested in the surroundings, not wanting to actually stare at the Saiyajin prince.  
  
"Like what you see?" 18 sneered at her appraiser.  
  
"So," 17 began. "Do you wish to see the sparring facilities where you and the other competitors will practice? I presume it will be you entering the tournament."  
  
"Yes," Piccolo answered. "Of course."  
  
"Of course," 17 repeated, turning sharply indicating the taller male should follow him down to a well-lit hallway. "This way."  
  
There was a slight rustling as Lord Kakarrot also left the court chamber, heading out to his private rooms, his two sons trailing after him as well as Captain Ginyu. With their departure, others of the royal court knew that there was nothing left of interest in the room and also took their leave.  
  
"Um, if it's okay with you, I'd rather find something to eat. I'm starving," Krillin intoned, looking over at 18 with curiosity.  
  
With a curt nod of her blonde head, she turned and started walking towards the other end of the hallway, not even bothering to look and see if he was following, as if the only way he was going to stay safe was to keep in her shadow. Her arms crossed over her chest defensively, taking on an air of boredom. She knew he thought of her as nothing more than a pretty 'human' woman, probably nothing more useful than as breeding stock, but it still irked her that she'd have to guard him. Sometimes, she severely wondered about Lord Kakarrot's sense of humor.  
  
Yamcha looked at Piccolo's retreating form and then at Krillin. Well, where was he supposed to go? He wouldn't mind doing both, eating and checking out the competition, but he could only do one at a time, and Vegeta was waiting for him to make up his mind. The rest of the court was gone already, and it was only him and the shorter male left. He turned to look at the dark prince's features, but they were mysteriously blank, as if he had found the perfect mask to hide behind. With a deep breath, he asked the royal, "So, where do YOU want to go?"  
  
Vegeta blinked in surprise. It was obvious that the others were taking advantage of the situation by seizing control of their 'guest status,' so why wasn't this one? And did it matter? With a self-defeated sigh, resigning himself to his arbitrary guard duty, he offered a suggestion. "I recommend your quarters."  
  
Blue eyes watched the exchange from up high before vanishing from the room to follow more interesting mysteries. Through twists and turns, the lithe, young figure moved with amazing silence. The Palace Ghost's life depended upon being insubstantial. Shimmying up and down various hidden pipes and pillars, the dark clad figure was one with the shadows that existed between the walls, between the realms of flesh and lies.  
  
***  
  
Piccolo's piercing gaze missed nothing in their assessment of the corridors of the palace. He noticed the way 17 moved, as if the android was trying to size him up as the others were doing, using a scouter of all things! The other fighters in the hallway parted ways, obviously in deference to the android, not to the new stranger. Piccolo was half tempted to show them all right then that he was more than a match for them, but that was a part of his soul that he didn't like to reveal unless he needed to. As much as he didn't want to reveal, though, there was much he needed to know.  
  
"Why is this tournament held?" Piccolo asked.  
  
"Because it amuses our Lord," 17 answered matter-of-factly. Turning his head slightly, he peered at the taller male. "Most fighters know this. Why is it you do not?"  
  
"Me and mine ... do not really care for the politics of empires. We live our lives as we have to, fighting to survive and to protect," Piccolo replied as a non-answer. "For now, we find ourselves at the mercy of Lord Kakarrot's politics. It is necessary to understand more if we are to survive. Here, at least."  
  
"And how long do you think you'll survive after you've placed your name on the bid to enter the tournament?" 17 asked, slowing down to look at his charge, his hands in the pockets of his pants. "Even if you make it past the first, qualifying round, you will still be going up against the Ginyu Force, Prince Gohan, and Prince Goten."  
  
"I will survive much longer than you might first imagine," Piccolo stated, stopping with his 'guard' so that he wouldn't get lost. "But tell me, what kind of fighters, what kind of men are these princes?"  
  
Glacial blue eyes looked at him before returning to look down the hall. "They are powerful. They are ruthless. They are vindictive and sometimes cruel. They are all these things and more. Prince Gohan is the royal heir, and is the Captain of the Home Guard, which means he is in direct control of all the guards in the palace other than my sister and me. He is, by far, the stronger -- physically -- of the two and has reached Super Saiyajin level, as his father has before him."  
  
Piccolo flinched with each twist this universe produced. How could Gohan ever, ever have been turned cruel?  
  
17 continued on, watching the green man more and more intently. "Prince Goten, on the other hand, is more of the strategist and does not have the same physical prowess of his sire, though he does hold the Emperor's... knack for obtaining answers. Prince Goten is the Royal Inquisitor; in reality, he's nothing more than a glorified spy and torturer. These are all well-known facts around the palace, though with you not paying attention to the 'politics of empires,' I'm sure it escaped your notice."  
  
"And what of others around the palace? Do they pay all that much attention to the politics? Or is it all just a game of survival? Who will live to see the next sunrise?" Piccolo asked as the crowd around them began to thin. Even Goten was a shadow of his other self. How soul-stunningly sad.  
  
"When it comes down to it, Demon Lord Piccolo, there is no difference," 17 retorted, beginning to enjoy their verbal sparring. "Now, Sir, here is the main training area. As you can see, there are a great many fighters who are already preparing for the tournament. If you ask really, really nicely, I'm sure that one of them might even be willing to spar with you without breaking you."  
  
"And what if I did not want to spar with any of them?" Piccolo asked, looking at each of the flying, fighting, arrogant warriors training in honest earnestness to please their leader, and knowing that none of them would offer him the slightest bit of competition. "What if I wanted to fight you?"  
  
"Then I would, of course, accommodate you by offering to spar with you."  
  
"Good," replied Piccolo. "But later. It is too crowded presently, and I do not want you to be injured by one of their careless movements. Show me more of this place. I would not wish to get lost if you were unable to escort me at another time."  
  
"I will always be able to do my duty," 17 answered. "It is what I live for."  
  
"So, tell me more of the people of the palace..." Piccolo asked.  
  
The two strolled through the halls, remarking on various things that struck them, though the conversation was light and shallow.  
  
***  
  
Krillin sat at a long table, eating a bowl of rice and something strange that tasted really good. Others were in the dining area as well, but he didn't appear to be paying them too much attention. Instead, when he set his bowl of food down, he looked at 18. She was also eating, yet she ate as if the task were unpleasant to her, unlike HIS 18, who ate with an air of boredom, true, but with a slight smile more often than not.  
  
"You have a question, or are you looking at me like that for another reason?" 18 inquired after she swallowed her mouthful of food.  
  
"I'm just wondering why you're not enjoying your food. Didn't you get what you wanted?" Krillin asked, trying to understand the differences between their worlds.  
  
"I eat because I feel like it. I don't have to. Food is not required for me."  
  
"So, why aren't you enjoying it?"  
  
"Because they overcooked it."  
  
"Oh," Krillin replied with a slight bob of his head. "So. how did you come to work for G--um, Lord Kakarrot?"  
  
It was such a come-on sentence that 18 actually grinned at it. "It was after a battle that tested not only our strength, but also Lord Kakarrot's. My brother and I were created to destroy Lord Kakarrot by the resistance. Our creator, Dr. Gero, had thought to insert us here so that we'd have the chance to kill the Lord, but once we arrived and fought the Super Saiyajin, we discussed other options. Of course, when he first arrived, there were three of us. Now, there are only two. But, we have found our chosen service to be. fun."  
  
"There was a resistance?" Krillin asked, wondering if his alter was part of it.  
  
"Once, but that was long ago. LONG ago. I'm surprised you didn't know," 18 said, instantly curious. "Most human fighters were part of it."  
  
"Oh, um, well.," Krillin laughed nervously. "I told you, I was a monk. I didn't get out much."  
  
"That must be it," the blonde android replied, giving him that. "So, what now?"  
  
"Oh, I dunno, maybe take me to my room?" Krillin requested.  
  
"Whatever you say," 18 sighed and began leading him down a strange hall. "This way. You are not allowed in the west wing, so we shall avoid that part of the palace, though it is between here and your room."  
  
"Why's it off limits?"  
  
"Because that is where the Emperor keeps his women. Lady Chichi, who is his wife, and womb to his children, lives on the lower level. She is guarded by Nappa, who does all her carrying and fetching for her as well. Lord Kakarrot does not care to visit her too often, which is just as well. Every time he does, she immediately breaks into hysterics so bad that it gives me a headache, and you can hear her screams throughout the palace. Actually, she screams like that every time she sees anyone. So, that is one reason that part of the palace is 'off limits'."  
  
"Nappa?"  
  
"Yes. He is her. nursemaid, if you will. You will understand in the morning, when it is time for her to have her bath. Her screaming will probably awaken you and yours."  
  
"Um, I'm sorry, but it sounds like she's crazy."  
  
"She is," 18 answered bluntly. "But she bore the first heir to the throne, and therefore she is given the title due her."  
  
"How can G-Lord! Kakarrot love her?"  
  
"He doesn't," 18 said. "Love has nothing to do with their arrangement. She is simply there as an incubator. In all truth, Lord Kakarrot loves -- obsesses over -- his lover, Mistress Bulma."  
  
"He.loves Bulma?" Krillin asked slowly.  
  
"Very much so. He values her so much that he will use her as a 'gift' to his best warriors. In recent years, that has meant Gohan, 17, and even I have had the opportunity to use his precious one. Neither 17 nor I have taken advantage of the chance, but I believe Gohan has. He values her so much that he has allowed her to keep her only son, Trunks."  
  
"Trunks?" Krillin thought back. He couldn't remember having seen the lavender-haired youth at the court. "He has another son?"  
  
"No. He is Vegeta's."  
  
"Wait, if he loves her so much, why would he let Vegeta sleep with her?"  
  
"Two reasons. One, as punishment to her for some simple thing that she refused to do. Secondly, as punishment to Vegeta, as a slap in the face to show him what he'd never have since he's too weak to claim anything of value. Although I imagine it was punishment of a different sort for him, should the rumors about his preferences ring true."  
  
What was that supposed to mean? The short human didn't let that thought linger and instead let his mind grasp around another bit of information 18 had revealed. "Vegeta? Weak?"  
  
"Oh, definitely. It's a running joke around here how Bulma, Lord Kakarrot's precious, lovely jewel, can only get pregnant by those that are as weak as earth bunnies, and then she'll reproduce just like that creature."  
  
Krillin looked at her, his left eye twitching. This was definitely an alternate reality. He couldn't wait to get home, either. This 'Lady Chichi' wasn't the only one who was insane.  
  
"Zarbon guards Mistress Bulma, and he is pretty much her lapdog, but even lapdogs have teeth. He will defend the blue-haired woman tooth and nail if you even step twenty feet too close," 18 warned. "But she occupies the upper level of the west wing, and as I said before, that is part of the palace you will not be going to visit."  
  
"Of course," Krillin bowed his head in acceptance of that, knowing that he'd try to visit his old friend anyway. "So, what do you guys do around here for fun?"  
  
"We kill slaves, traitors, and prisoners. The Ginyu Force is sometimes allowed to go purge a planet or three," 18 said breezily, honestly. "I have not had the opportunity to go off the planet in a long, long while, but that is because I am always by my master's side."  
  
"I am surprised that you would allow yourself to be under someone else's rule," Krillin stated. "I would have thought you would prefer to be free."  
  
"I am free," 18 said. "I can do whatever -- or whomever -- I want within certain limits. But even the freest person has limits. I do not mind mine."  
  
"Sure," Krillin said turning his eyes ahead. 'Keep telling yourself that, 18, and maybe, one day, you'll believe it.'  
  
***  
  
Yamcha trailed a step behind Vegeta as the shorter male led him along the long passages towards his quarters. Along the way, Vegeta pointed out places and things of interest, things that were meant to impress Yamcha, but the scarred male only nodded his acknowledgement of the existence of these things. He kept his eyes anywhere but on his companion. Yamcha stole occasional glances at the other man but did not stare like he wanted. He just had a hard time believing he was walking around with Vegeta, even if he was an alternate version, though that was probably for the best. The Vegeta from his dimension never would've tolerated his presence this long nor at such a close proximity.  
  
"Have I done something to offend you?" Vegeta suddenly asked.  
  
"What? No! Huh?" he fumbled, confused. He turned to look then at the saiyajin and immediately remembered why he'd chosen to keep his eyes on their surroundings rather than the smaller male. "Whatever, uh, gave you that idea?"  
  
"This is the first time you've actually acknowledged my presence since we left the court."  
  
"I've been listening to you telling me about what I've been seeing," the taller man countered.  
  
"Barely," Vegeta spat. "If my presence offends you so much, then stop making me pretend like I enjoy showing you around here."  
  
"I want you here!" Yamcha came back, defensively. From the strange look on Vegeta's face, Yamcha realized what he'd just said. "You know, because, you're, uh, my guard and all."  
  
"Did someone tell you? Did they tell you to choose me so that I would be... further humiliated?"  
  
Where did this come from? What was wrong with this Vegeta? Humiliated? "No! I didn't know you would be...," the human trailed off. "I just... I wanted to spend time with you."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Why not?" Yamcha smiled. "You're the prince of all Saiyajins!"  
  
At this, Vegeta's eyes narrowed. "Who told you that?"  
  
The scarred man bit his tongue a little, an expression of panic quickly slipping over his visage. "I, uh," he stumbled. "Uh, didn't they say it at the court?"  
  
"No."  
  
The human was given a reprieve from the awkward moment when another person came upon them in the corridor. Yamcha glanced over at the person then did a double take, automatically recognizing the tall, hugely muscled form of Nappa. He expected the large, bald man to stop and pay his respects to the prince, but the bigger saiyajin just walked past them, not even sparing a glance at the two smaller men. The human's eyebrows shot up in confusion, and when he turned to look back at Vegeta, a scowl familiar to the saiyajin's face was firmly planted there. The prince began to move down the hallways again, and he followed. But Yamcha's confusion was too great to keep him from commenting, "He didn't even look at you. You're his prince, sworn to protect and serve you, and he didn't even look at you!" He sighed deeply. "I don't understand, Vegeta. What the hell has happened here? You're all so different! I mean, why aren't you the emperor? You're the saiyajin prince, not Goku, er, Kakarrot."  
  
The saiyajin pretended not to notice that Yamcha had recognized Nappa. He also pretended not to notice that he'd called Kakarrot 'Goku'. But he did. However, he thought that may be a question best reserved for a later time. "It is a long story."  
  
"Please tell me, Vegeta," Yamcha pressed. He couldn't imagine the prince being anything other than the prince. His need to know grew.  
  
Vegeta swallowed and then nodded a bit, as if deciding it would be better if he told this story rather than someone else. "I was already inconsequential to the original ruler, named Frieza, but slightly less ridiculed. My title had no meaning to anyone but myself and Nappa. But then Kakarrot came. The legendary Super Saiyajin. He defeated Frieza and took over everything. He never knew me, had no loyalty to me. But he knew he was far more powerful than I. He threw that in my face, and I knew I couldn't compete. I... surrendered. And now Nappa follows Kakarrot. They keep me here to control me." He looked pointedly at the human male. "But I am nothing more than a guard now. I am just a mere guard." The prince studied the other man for a moment. "I can't believe I just told you all of that."  
  
"Well, I've been told I'm easy to talk to," Yamcha smiled, despite his conflicting emotions. This Vegeta had just caved in, given up. The human's heart went out to him. He never could've imagined that Vegeta would become devoid of the spirit to fight. "Say, um, how did G--Kakarrot become so... powerful?"  
  
"He was sent to this planet as a child to 'clear' it of its natural inhabitants to be put on the market for Frieza. He gained power each time he fought, and he killed countless millions. He killed this planet's ruler, who lived in the tower where you were found, when he was an adolescent." Vegeta glanced down the hallway in either direction. After seeing no one else present, he continued. "The planet lost hope after that and allowed itself to be conquered. Kakarrot wiped out nearly the entire population of this world, save for some females he wished to use as breeders." The royal's voice dropped to just above a whisper. "He was so powerful. And his brother, Raditz, came here to recruit him for me, but Kakarrot would have none of it and killed his own brother. Then he came for Frieza." Vegeta got a far off look in his eyes for a moment. Yamcha began to wonder if he was going to finish the story, but then the saiyajin focused back in and continued. "He has been emperor ever since. I may be the prince, but like this planet, I too have lost hope. And I'm... too weak to do anything but accept it."  
  
"You're so much better than that," Yamcha said. "You're strong, a survivor. When that bastard Frieza destroyed your planet, you never stopped trying to get out from under his thumb. You never gave up. I can't believe that Go-- er, Kakarrot couldn't see that in you."  
  
"How do you know all of this? About Frieza and my planet?" Vegeta queried.  
  
"I, uh, I must've overheard it," Yamcha covered.  
  
"No one speaks of it. Ever."  
  
"I, uh, uh, I--," stammered the human.  
  
Vegeta gripped the front of Yamcha's shirt and pulled him down to his eye level. "How do you know all this?!" The taller male squirmed in his grip, but not forcibly enough to remove himself. The panic was clear in Yamcha's eyes, and a bit of fear glimmered there. It was enough to shock the prince into letting him go. "Who are you? From where have you come?"  
  
The human gulped. "I--Oh, man." Frowning, he quickly wondered what he could tell Vegeta to get out of this. He'd always been a good liar, even if he despised lying. On the other hand, he didn't want to lie to this Vegeta, not after everything he'd just told him. "Can we go somewhere else? Somewhere private. Somewhere nobody else can hear us."  
  
The saiyajin prince appeared to be in thought for a moment, then replied, "Your quarters. I will take you there."  
  
They walked down a few more hallways, then up a lift, and down another hall that curved around. At the end of the curve, Vegeta pressed a panel on the wall, and the metallic door slid open. The room inside was austere, decorated in solid white, from floor to ceiling, and contained nothing more than an armoire and a bed. Yamcha stepped into the room and seated himself on the bed while the saiyajin secured the door then came to stand in front of him, an expectant look on his face.  
  
"Can you promise me that whatever I say will stay between us?" Yamcha asked. "You can't tell anybody."  
  
"No one speaks to me," the smaller man stated plainly.  
  
"Oh." Yamcha rubbed the back of his neck. "Look, Piccolo, Krillin, and I... We are who we say we are. But we're not from here. Or, hell... Not any place in this dimension." He paused for a moment, gauging the prince's reaction to his words; mostly the scowl just deepened. "We accidentally dropped through some sort of magic mirror -- I don't really know a whole lot about that; you'd have to ask Piccolo. But anyway, we're from a different dimension or universe or whatever. All of you exist or existed in our dimension, just entirely different. You have the same faces, but you're completely unalike. Although I've noticed some facts have remained unchanged. That's how I know so much about you."  
  
Vegeta looked as if he'd just swallowed a mouthful of cod liver oil. Yamcha grimaced as he saw the wheels turning in the Saiyajin's head, putting the pieces together. "You don't believe me."  
  
"You know me?" Vegeta questioned. "We are friends?"  
  
"Oh, um, no." Yamcha chuckled nervously. There were a million other questions Yamcha thought Vegeta would've rather asked than this. This was a surprise turn of questioning. "You -- you hate me. I'm a nobody to you. You think I'm stupid... and weak... and pathetic... and you're right." The human stood then and lifted up his shirt, revealing a set of complex scars, some from battle, others from accidents. Tracing one jagged scar that was as artistic as it was painfully obvious that it was intended, Yamcha said, "You gave me this... Jeeze, that was a long time ago."  
  
Vegeta looked at the bared torso with a mix of awe and fright. He had never seen someone so badly scarred, yet still able to fight. But what was even more frightening was that he had supposedly done this, and he couldn't think of a valid enough reason to hurt the human. Not hurt him so badly that it would permanently ruin his otherwise magnificent body. "I--I did that?"  
  
"Well, not you, but the other Vegeta, yeah." Yamcha moved to within a foot of the shorter male, dropping his shirt as he did so and tucking it back in. "Listen, I know you said that no one speaks to you, but you can't tell anyone about this. It's very important that you keep this information to yourself."  
  
At this point, Vegeta took a half step forward, leaving only the tiniest of space between their bodies. He inhaled the other man's scent deeply, his heart hammering in his chest as he felt a small kernel of excitement budding. "And what will you give me for my silence?"  
  
"What? You just said--," Yamcha started. Swallowing hard, he tried not to focus on the closeness of the saiyajin prince. "What do you want from me?"  
  
"I will say nothing," he said, staring up into the human's eyes, "in exchange for your cooperation. Should I ever make any requests of you, you must oblige me." The discomfiture was apparent enough in Yamcha's eyes that he added, "I am not unreasonable. I will not make unreasonable requests." He did not know from where this boldness came, but at the same time, he didn't want to scare his charge. The human had shown him kindness and consideration, and he respected that. On the other hand, that wasn't going to prevent him from taking advantage of the situation. So rarely did he ever have an advantage. It wasn't going to escape him now.  
  
"Okay," Yamcha nodded. "Okay. Is there anything you want now?"  
  
"Piccolo. I want to know about him. Is he really as powerful as he pretends to be?" Vegeta asked, moving away from Yamcha to sit on the end of the bed.  
  
"He's not pretending." He joined the smaller male in sitting on the bed but did not sit immediately next to him. "Piccolo is one of the most powerful people in my universe, and here," the human hesitated, "well, your universe isn't as powerful as mine. You guys don't exactly hide your power levels, and we can sense them. Piccolo could wipe the floor with anyone here, including Kakarrot."  
  
"Is he truly that powerful? And you? Could you defeat Kakarrot?"  
  
"Me? No, probably not. I may be able to hold my own against him, but I couldn't defeat him." Yamcha relaxed back a little on the bed, leaning onto one arm.  
  
"Tell me more about your world," Vegeta said.  
  
"Okay, well," Yamcha began. "It's a lot more peaceful, for one thing. We don't have a ruler, but every area has its own leaders and stuff."  
  
"No. Tell me more about those of us you know here."  
  
"Oh. Well. We don't have a Kakarrot, well, not exactly. His name is Goku in my world. He's one of the kindest, most positive people I've ever met, and he's one of my very best friends. He has the same two sons too. Most of the people I've seen here -- the Ginyu Force and all -- are dead." Yamcha halted briefly. "And there's you of course."  
  
"Tell me."  
  
"You're... kind of an asshole, no offense," he added. "Mean, rude, always striving to be the best. But you're very powerful."  
  
"More powerful than Lord Kakarrot?"  
  
Yamcha smiled. "In my world, you're more powerful than Piccolo."  
  
At this, Vegeta looked pleased but still did not smile. Then he inquired, "Do I have a family? Am I still the prince?"  
  
"Yes, you're still a prince, but you have no followers. I mean, you're still highly respected and all, but the only other saiyajin left in existence is Goku, and you kind of look down upon him. Actually, you look down upon everybody, even your wife and son."  
  
"I have a wife?" Vegeta's face was all astonishment.  
  
"Kind of. You and she fight a lot. And I'm not actually sure you ever got married, come to think of it." The human noticed a somewhat amused look on the saiyajin's visage. "Something funny?"  
  
"Just... Never mind." Vegeta looked at Yamcha seriously. "Do you have a family? A... wife, perhaps?"  
  
Yamcha blushed slightly. "No. I don't have anybody. There's someone for whom I care a lot, but... he doesn't care for me at all."  
  
'He.' One of Vegeta's eyebrows had arched upwards, but he kept the thought to himself. He looked at the other male's reclining form on the bed, and wondered who could not want the human? He was fit, and capable, and claimed to be powerful. But maybe that was it. Maybe they did not want a powerful lover, or maybe they didn't believe he was powerful. Vegeta had to look away. Whoever it was that did not want Yamcha, they were a fool to the tenth degree. Vegeta began wondering if the green man was the one who Yamcha wanted and was not getting. If he was... Vegeta's tail tightened slightly in worried anxiety. It would just be his luck, too.  
  
Yamcha wondered if his face was ever going to get back to its normal, non- flushed state. Noticing Vegeta's averted eyes, Yamcha thought that perhaps he was reflecting on how very different, and obviously more depressing this reality was to some of the other possibilities. Clearing his throat, he changed the subject. "Don't you want to know about something else besides my non-existent love life? What else would you like to know, Vegeta?"  
  
The small saiyajin slowly dragged his eyes up the human's form. He doubted the other man was aware of it, but it almost seemed as if he was posing. He looked so... inviting. And it would be so easy to just close the distance between them... But he couldn't allow himself to do that. The human was obviously in love with someone, likely that Piccolo, and it would do no good for Vegeta to piss him off. All kinds of doubt began cluttering his mind. Instead of asking about Piccolo, he formulated a different question in his head. "Fine. Why did you choose me as your guard?"  
  
This was getting him nowhere. "You, um, seemed like a good choice, and... even though you don't like me, I've still always wanted to be friends with you." Yamcha averted his eyes and chewed a little on his tongue, a habit he'd picked up for whenever he got nervous.  
  
"You mean the other Vegeta," he corrected. "The Vegeta from your dimension. He's the one that doesn't like you."  
  
"Oh, um, yeah, basically." The human let his eyes rove over the other male and swallowed hard. He was so like the Vegeta from his world, but so dissimilar at the same time. Wasn't Vegeta supposed to be mean and cruel? This Vegeta was actually far more enticing. Suddenly, he wanted to be any place in the world other than next to Vegeta on a bed. Jumping up quickly, he put on a huge, fake grin. "Say, why don't you show me some more of this place? Maybe we can meet up with the others."  
  
"As you wish... Yamcha." Vegeta filed out of the room with a relieved Yamcha following closely behind him.  
  
***  
  
He could feel Captain Ginyu's eyes on him, frightened and wary. It wasn't an unfamiliar look that Goten noticed when others saw him. In fact, that was the only look he saw on anyone's face when they viewed him or his family. Any time Goten went anywhere in the palace, the others kept their distance. All his life, they'd kept their distance, even his family. Only with them, it was a different kind of void. They ignored him unless it suited their purposes to include him. At this time, however, his father and Gohan were unaware of his presence in the room as they joked and laughed over Jeice's fighters. They acknowledged that Piccolo might be someone of interest, but the two humans, they rightly ignored. Goten thought that they were being somewhat premature in their assumptions, though.  
  
Granted, Piccolo was... intriguing, but to dismiss his partners would be somewhat foolish. But only somewhat.  
  
Krillin seemed aware. His choice of 18 was probably based on his hope to sleep with the lovely android, and he wouldn't be the first. He probably wouldn't be the last either. Goten's mind raced as he calculated whether or not to try and watch the 'ex-monk' as he claimed to be. Finally, he rejected the idea. He would let 18 watch over the short man; she'd be able to take care of him if he tried anything.  
  
Goten's tail loosened and then re-wrapped around his waist. His thoughts turned to Yamcha. The scarred human seemed fairly competent with speech, but shy. Goten shelved him as weak, just from the 'feel' of him. He radiated 'prey' vibes. One might assume that Yamcha would bear more careful watching, seemingly the most likely to be targeted by others for sport or otherwise. The human was bait, he just had to be. Well, Goten wasn't about to fall into that trap. No, he'd observe the biggest threat.  
  
With a cold, intimidating smile, he grinned at Ginyu before he slipped out. Not that it mattered that he tried to be stealthy. His father and brother couldn't care less about him. As he entered the large hallway, he pulled up short. Where would Piccolo be by now? Goten thought on this and then struck upon a brainstorm.  
  
He wasn't the only one in the palace who lived to observe others, to find out answers. There was probably only one other person that was as knowledgeable as he was. That was the Palace Ghost. It was time to go find answers, and Goten grinned, hoping he would have to beat it out of the informant. 


	3. Harsh Light of Day

Disclaimer: I, Summer Starr, nor my partner, Deany, have anything to do with Dragonball Z, or anything else of that nature. Unfortunately. If we did, it would have been banned from airing a LONG time ago. Unfortunately.  
  
Warnings: Slash. Get used to it.  
  
Kingdom Come ~ Chapter 03  
  
'What a jackass,' Gohan mused on his father as he walked. He wasn't completely certain of when his brother had escaped from their father's and his company, but he knew that he should be making his getaway as quickly as possible soon thereafter. It wasn't difficult. The emperor was so wrapped up in himself that he hadn't even really seen his elder son leave as well. Gohan had decided upon his office for sanctuary. No one would bother him there unless it was an emergency, especially not his father. Lord Kakarrot tried to avoid almost anything that had to do with actual work. Heading towards his office, where he knew a multitude of inane reports would be awaiting him, he considered the day's events.  
  
He'd heard the call. Jeice had three nominees for the tournament. Three! And where did he find them? At the old ruins in the sky of all places. Nothing of value was left there; Lord Kakarrot had seen to that. Destroying the home of the old ruler of the planet had been icing on the cake for the emperor. And what had these three men been doing there? They must've coerced Jeice into bringing them to the palace. That much was certain. Although, Gohan surmised, they could've just tricked the orange warrior. He never had been known for his brains.  
  
What had Jeice been thinking? As if those three seemingly ineffectual creatures could enter the tournament. Well, no. Strike that. -Two- presumably weak individuals. That third one... Gohan smiled a bit to himself. Piccolo was his name, wasn't it? Now, -there- was something to appreciate. He was definitely a fair prospect. That commanding voice, that piercing gaze, that... delightfully well-built body. His intense presence alone practically exuded authority, control, power; all of those wrapped up in a tight, hard, sexy green package was nearly too good to be true. He was superior to the other two, no doubt about it. The demi-saiyajin licked his lips in approval.  
  
Soon, he arrived at his office. It was a simple room, round in shape, with windows covering an entire quarter of the wall and bookcases covering the rest of it, except for the door. Near the windows sat his broad desk and plush chair. With a deep sigh, he sat down in his chair and gazed forlornly at the stack of discs he had to go through. Languidly picking one up and sliding it into a reader, he put his feet up on his desk, relaxing into the chair.  
  
His eyes drifted from the digital screen to the window and the lands beyond. This area was lush and green, unlike much of this planet. The grass wavered in a slight breeze, glossy and smooth. It reminded him of something... He smirked. It was that Piccolo's skin. It was the same color. He slowly turned over thoughts in his head of the tall green warrior, and his body responded in accordance. He slipped his hand down his armor- covered stomach to his swelling arousal and realized he was wearing far too much clothing. Quickly getting up out of the chair, he looked around, coming to a decision. He first closed the curtains over the windows and then locked the only door to the office. A high and mighty grin graced his features as he stripped the armor and uniform from his chiseled body, permitting his fingers to linger over his skin, heightening his stimulation. Finally, he settled back down into the chair, steamy images already filtering into his all-too-eager mind.  
  
Piccolo would come to him, crawling, begging. That was the only way it could be, after all. Gohan smirked at the thought. Piccolo, on his knees. But he didn't want the tall warrior like that. No, not like that at first.  
  
Gohan closed his eyes as his hand began to stroke himself slowly, teasing. It'd be like that in the beginning, all touching and teasing and tormenting. He'd make Piccolo beg initially, denying him the ability to do as he wished. It would all be on Gohan's terms, as it was meant to be. But, just before Piccolo gave up the quest as futile, Gohan would give him a bit. Just a bit. And Gohan would make him beg just a little more. He'd tease him, allow the green male to caress him, but would make him avoid the really sensitive parts, as if it were more painful for Piccolo not to touch him there. Piccolo would whimper and plead with the prince to let him take him, so that the taller man could be his.  
  
And he'd allow it. But it would be on his terms. Nothing soft and gentle about it. Gohan imagined Piccolo crying out, begging to be inside him, and it was a sound he thought would be good. He would throw the larger male onto his back and straddle his hips, roughly pressing their heated shafts together. He would grip and massage the green body beneath him until Piccolo could stand no more and beg to be inside the prince.  
  
And he'd allow it. He'd let Piccolo flip him over and bury his steely rod deep within him. Gohan could picture it all clearly in his mind. Piccolo's cool, grass-green skin pressed against his ivory skin. The well-muscled physique rapidly thrusting between his legs. The large, throbbing member plunging hard into him. The feverish, passionate friction between their bodies. The pain that equaled pleasure. He could imagine the dark voice whispering his name like a prayer, like he was some god. Gohan imagined it all as if it was really happening, working his senses into a chaotic tumult.  
  
The prince pumped his hand up and down his shaft with an increasing tempo. Images of the green man pounding into his flesh flashed behind his closed eyes. The images burned themselves into his mind, and the world blurred as his orgasm crested within him.  
  
Slowly coming down off his high, Gohan peered into the empty room beneath heavy lids, but his mind still whirled with thoughts of Piccolo. How marvelous it would be to possess such a being. To have him by his side every day and in his bed every night. Wouldn't it be just wonderful to have such a magnificent toy? Gohan smirked lackadaisically. He would have him. 'Piccolo will be mine,' he thought. 'He -is- mine.'  
  
***  
  
Piccolo observed the android leading him through the palace, listening to what was said and what was not said. He watched the way 17 moved, how he was constantly scanning the corridors with his scouter. His every move and every word spoke of someone who was used to being on constant alert.  
  
This was in contrast to the Android 17 with whom Piccolo was familiar. Where this one was cautious, the other was cocksure and arrogant. It was almost a refreshing change. Almost.  
  
Piccolo didn't bother to move his head as he scanned the local area. He knew there was another person around, someone of mediocre material. He could sense a strange familiarity with that person, though. He looked to 17 as the android focused his attention on some outlandish statue, explaining what it was doing there. Some sort of strange ransom given to Lord Kakarrot for the return of some woman, which never happened, but the statue was kept just for laughs.  
  
With an air of utmost boredom, Piccolo called out to the echoing emptiness of the large hallway, "You can come out, now. I know you're following us."  
  
"Who are you talking to?" 17 queried, one dark eyebrow raised. "As you can see, we are very much alone."  
  
"No, we aren't. And you know it," Piccolo stated as he looked straight at an area of wall where he could feel the other's presence. He was tired of being spied upon. Very, very tired. "He's right there."  
  
"Who is?" 17 asked with a smirk. "Your imaginary friend?"  
  
"He's not imaginary," Piccolo said as he looked around for a possible entrance, or better yet, an exit. "He's right behind that wall. And if he doesn't come out, then I'm going to blast a doorway right through the wall. I doubt he'd enjoy that."  
  
There was no sound as the figure moved away from the scene, but Piccolo followed anyway, 17 right behind him, protesting in hisses and stuttered sentences that meant nothing to him. The tall, green warrior was not going to let this little spy get away, especially since he thought it might be someone with whom he was familiar. The presence led him to a distant room, dark and musty and cold, but Piccolo entered anyway. 17 was not thrilled.  
  
"Why did you want to come in here?" 17 inquired, his voice soft and dry.  
  
"Shut up. He's coming."  
  
"Sure he is," 17 replied grimly. "You're probably only picking up our Palace Ghost. It's nothing to worry about. Come on, let me show you more of the palace."  
  
"I am not leaving until he shows himself."  
  
"I told you! It's a damn ghost!" 17 retorted angrily, more emotional than he had ever been previously.  
  
"No, it's not. If it were only a 'damn ghost,' then you wouldn't be so upset. You would be laughing," Piccolo responded, his voice level and even, dangerously observant.  
  
After a short pause, there came a slight shuffling sound and a creak as something old opened up. Piccolo's eyes trained to the source of the sound immediately, 17 standing behind him deathly still. From the darkness of the doorway, a figure emerged, black clad and slow, as if he were not completely used to standing up straight.  
  
Piccolo almost drew back in horror. The person standing before him was lean, almost skinny. His hair was long, nearly midway down his back. And the tail... Piccolo had noticed the others' tails and how they'd held them. But Trunks' tail surprised him. It hung limply like some broken toy, lifeless and joyless, almost as if it were sewn on rather than a living extension of his body. The green man quickly brought his eyes back up to Trunks' face. Haunted blue eyes darted around, hollow yet apprehensive, as if they'd seen enough of pain, yet not enough of laughter. Though, truth be told, Piccolo doubted anyone in the palace had any kind of knowledge on peace. This wasn't the Trunks he knew. This wasn't even Mirai Trunks. This was some weak farce of the laughing, joking demi-Saiyajin that Piccolo knew.  
  
"Trunks, what are you doing here?" 17 asked, his voice amazingly emotionless after the earlier outburst.  
  
"Um, I didn't think you'd find this place," Trunks said, his wide blue eyes looking only at Piccolo. "I thought... I thought... I thought you..."  
  
"You thought you'd be safe," Piccolo supplied, interrupting.  
  
"You don't have a scouter..."  
  
"I don't need a scouter to sense you."  
  
"You don't?" Trunks squeaked.  
  
"No," Piccolo said, unfolding his hands from their customary place across his chest. He reached out one hand to touch Trunks, to offer reassurance, but 17 moved to intercept him.  
  
"Don't," 17 commanded, eerily calm. "Trunks is no threat. He's a nobody."  
  
"He's a victim," Piccolo returned.  
  
Trunks, meanwhile, was sliding back into the shadows, trying to disappear. He knew that 17 spoke the truth, but he was caught off guard by the sincerity of concern that Piccolo expressed for him. That moment of hesitation cost him. Piccolo shook off 17's hand as if it were nothing, clasping Trunks by the collar at the same time and dragging him further away from the safety to which he was accustomed. Trunks knew that struggling was pointless, but he tried to anyway, digging his feet against the ground and fighting the fist clasped into his clothes with all the desperate strength of someone who knew what horror awaited him should he fail in getting away. "Let me go! Let me go! Let me go!"  
  
"Trunks, be silent!" Piccolo snapped. "I'm not going to hurt you."  
  
17's blue eyes watched, silent and helpless, unable to interfere. He wanted to help, and it was obvious that he did, but Lord Kakarrot had long ago stated that Trunks was anyone's meat if they could take him. And they usually could take him... however they wanted to.  
  
"Please, let me go!" Trunks cried out, frantic. "Please! Don't hurt me! I didn't do anything!"  
  
"I know that," Piccolo said.  
  
"What are you going to do with him?" 17 asked softly.  
  
"I don't know, but he isn't staying here," Piccolo stated.  
  
"What?!"  
  
"It isn't safe."  
  
"What do you mean?" Trunks questioned, still fighting, but also curious. Amazing how that personality quirk was still in evidence.  
  
"Lord Kakarrot is coming this way."  
  
"What?" 17 breathed, tipping his scouter, and searching for the familiar energy reading. Sure enough, Lord Kakarrot was indeed heading in their direction. "Damn. He must be coming to visit one of his women. We shouldn't be here. This is the west wing; only Lord Kakarrot and a few, select guards are supposed to be here."  
  
"What do you mean, his women?" Piccolo queried, stopping abruptly. They were out of the small locker room, and yet still away from the main route of travel in the hallway.  
  
"His women. What, don't you know what a woman is?" 17 asked nervously.  
  
Suddenly, the hallway was filled with a high-pitched, terrified scream of someone who saw death stalking towards her and, though she knew there was no escape, she still wanted to run. Piccolo released Trunks, clasping his hands over his sensitive ears, cringing in pain. Trunks fell to his knees, his hands held protectively over his own ears. The lavender-haired demi- Saiyajin began to whimper and rock until the screaming ended, but it was followed with such heartless laughter that Piccolo, the mighty Demon Lord himself, was left feeling cold inside.  
  
"She's screaming again. He went to visit her. Why? Why does he enjoy hurting her? She always screams when he goes to visit her. He always leaves angry. Why doesn't he just stay away? Stay away from all of them?" Trunks whimpered, wrapping his arms around his waist. 17 knelt beside him, encircling him in another band of security.  
  
"Who's screaming?" Piccolo asked, curious in their strange behavior.  
  
"Lady Chichi. His wife," 17 answered, rubbing Trunks' back as the other young man uncurled from his position to wrap around the android. "She's quite mad. Driven insane by her husband and sons."  
  
Piccolo looked the direction from which the laughter was still coming and shivered slightly, though it had nothing to do with the damp chill in the air. He looked down to his feet where the other two were still huddled and realized that this world may have had some of the same faces as his, but it was definitely nothing like home. Nothing like home at all.  
  
***  
  
Krillin wandered through the hallway, 18 leading him from the side. He was only halfway listening to her, though. This woman was so very unlike his wife that it wasn't just scary, it was enough to make his skin want to crawl off. She was heartless, cold, and ... bloody. She told him tales of purging worlds, of how Lord Kakarrot conquered the worlds of the Oroin people.  
  
He hoped she wasn't trying to impress him, because if she was then she was seriously disturbed. Or perhaps it was just the rest of the world that made her that way. He was still pondering that thought when he arrived at a hallway intersection and came across Vegeta and Yamcha.  
  
Yamcha was in a similar leading-following position as he was, only Vegeta was a bit more quiet about stories retelling bloody conquests. In fact, it looked as if there wasn't much conversation going on between the two of them as Krillin approached.  
  
"Hey, Yamcha!" Krillin called out, jogging towards his friend. "Find anything interesting?"  
  
"Yeah. A lot, actually," Yamcha smiled. "But I'll tell you later. So, enjoy lunch?"  
  
"I think that was actually dinner," Krillin replied. "I think they'd be closing the service lines by the time you got there again. It's getting rather late. But, anyway, what have you and Vegeta been up to?"  
  
"Nothing much," Yamcha laughed, but Krillin noticed a slight change in Vegeta's scowl, not much of one, but a slight change nonetheless. "Just giving me a tour. Hey, do you want to check out the arena? I mean, this tournament is supposed to be some kind of big deal, right? So, why not go check out the challengers?"  
  
"Sure, sounds like fun," Krillin said, the note of happiness never leaving his voice.  
  
Vegeta glowered as he followed the others down the hallway. He hated the arena. He hated the other beings in that place who tried to be more than they ever could be. But mostly, he hated what always happened to him there. It was Ground Zero for his shame. His weakness, his disgrace, his utter lack in everything hung over him like his own personal rain cloud. The arena exacerbated how meaningless the former prince had become. And this mismatched group was going there. 'How very delightful,' he thought sarcastically.  
  
The short saiyajin's eyes focused on the yellow jacket in front of him. At least he'd be there, Vegeta consoled himself. The scarred human wasn't so bad. Actually, he was almost what could be considered a bright spot. And when was the last time he'd had one of those? Could he even recall a time? His deep frown lessened a bit as he observed the taller human. Even from behind, he could tell that Yamcha was a handsome man. Suddenly, the man in question turned his head around to look at Vegeta, like he'd sensed the small saiyajin examining him.  
  
Embarrassment flushed the smaller male's face at having been caught. When he met the other's eyes, he expected to find disapproval burning there. Instead, the brown eyes glittered warmly, and a soft little smile adorned his features. Vegeta found himself wanting to return that smile, and he must have responded decently because the tiny smile broadened into a sincere grin. What was it about that man? Was he always this friendly? And how could he possibly not have a significant other? It was truly baffling. But Vegeta didn't have time to expand upon these thoughts in his head. They'd arrived at the arena.  
  
"This is where the tournament will be held," the blonde android announced. "Welcome to the arena."  
  
The two humans scanned the wide area. It looked nearly identical to the stadium in which the Tenkaichi Budokai was held. With one exception, that is. "What a dump," Krillin muttered.  
  
"Got that right," Yamcha responded. "Looks like a demilitarized zone."  
  
The place was in shambles. The lower part of the arena appeared blown apart with large chunks of stone missing and the areas around there scorched and blackened. The fighting platform itself was in downright disrepair. Huge craters and missing tiles blemished the surface of the platform.  
  
"It will be repaired," 18 suddenly stated. "It's always repaired every year just before the tournament. It always needs it."  
  
"So, uh, heh," the short, bald human began, "who or what did all this?"  
  
"This is what's been left over from the last tournament, obviously. Prince Gohan and Prince Goten fought the best match we'd all seen in ages." 18 smiled proudly. "It was one of the most brutal and bloodiest fights in the history of the tournament. They nearly killed each other."  
  
Yamcha paled and gulped, holding back the reflexive gag. Even though he comprehended the two demi-saiyajins were not the ones he knew, the idea of them killing each other just made him want to heave. "Interesting," he managed.  
  
Suddenly, a shrill scream pierced the night air. The two humans jumped, skittishly looking all around them. Yamcha found his voice first. "The hell was that? A harpy?"  
  
"Harpy," repeated 18, smirking. "Rather accurate, in a way."  
  
Vegeta spoke up, his voice steady but soft. "It's Lady Chichi, Lord Kakarrot's wife. He most likely went to visit her. Screaming is the only way she expresses herself now."  
  
"Oh."  
  
An uncomfortable silence stretched within the group. The short human shuffled his feet a bit, trying to think of a way to change the subject. Off in the distance behind a gate, Krillin spotted other people fighting. "Say, what's that over there?" he inquired.  
  
"The sparring grounds," came the answer from the blonde. "Everyone practices there." She began to move towards the other area, and Krillin stepped up to walk alongside her while Yamcha and Vegeta trailed a bit behind them.  
  
The sparring grounds were completely opposite of the arena in appearance. They'd obviously been meticulously kept with their perfectly cut green grass and pristine sparring rings. All of the rings were currently occupied. Even at the Tenkaichi Budokai, which typically had a considerable crowd of people trying to take part in the event, they'd never seen this many fighters vying to participate in a tournament. Krillin and Yamcha scanned the throngs of fighters for a familiar face, but found none. Just a bunch of drones.  
  
They walked along the paths between the sparring rings, gauging the power levels and skills of the warriors. Not surprisingly, the two humans found them deficient in both areas. Yamcha became gradually aware that Vegeta was inching closer and closer to his side until the two of them were walking right next to each other with a mere inch between them. At first he was a little confused by the small saiyajin's actions, but as he watched Vegeta's eyes darting back and forth between every fighter they passed, it began to occur to the scarred male that perhaps Vegeta was uncomfortable being so near so many other competitors.  
  
"Vegeta?" he asked in a soft whisper. "Are you okay?"  
  
"Of course," Vegeta replied, though there was a certain amount of enthusiasm missing from the statement that would add to its truthfulness. The prince's tail wrapped more securely around his torso, protectively defensive.  
  
Floating above the ground, two figures danced to the beat of what they considered a quick sparring rhythm. One was with blue skin and horns, while the other was more of a humanoid in appearance, though he was anything but human. They broke apart to catch their breath and to size each other up again. Glancing down, they spotted the four tourists. They grinned at each other and caught someone else's eye, silently and unobtrusively. The aerial fights continued, but now they were more dances than they were fights, preparing for the trick that was to come.  
  
The calm before the storm was brief, but noticeable. The two humans looked up at the fighters hovering over them even as two of them began to power up. Yamcha and Krillin knew that it was too much for the 'light sparring' that the others were doing. Vegeta, on the other hand, knew exactly what was to come, and like any person who was used to being the butt of jokes, he awaited the humiliation with an already defeated spirit, realizing that there was nothing he could do to stop it. Strangely enough, Vegeta didn't have to stop it. Even as the energy blast was released, and the mock opponent that the blast was fired at moved away to allow the powerful attack to plow down from the sky to the four observers, Krillin and Yamcha moved.  
  
Vegeta, and others, would swear that they never saw the humans move. 18 wasn't even paying them attention, though. Krillin moved in front automatically, blocking the attack and throwing it back at the challenger. Yamcha, on the other hand, didn't move a muscle, but he powered up briefly, as if to ward off any other attacks.  
  
There were no more attacks, though. The fighters remained silent as they came to grasp with the idea that the humans were the ones to throw the attack back. But then the bully snorted, dismissing the entire incident and started attacking his sparring partner once again.  
  
Yamcha and Krillin stood there on guard for a little longer, unsure of who might attack next, but found that there wasn't a need. Tensed and ready, they began to continue their tour. Yamcha leaned over slightly to Krillin and had to inquire, "Well? How was the power level? It didn't feel too impressive."  
  
"It wasn't anything more than a light show. I hope they don't think this is some kind of power show. Because if this is the best they have to offer, then they really don't have a clue what kind of dangers are really out there. I'm beginning to think that they aren't masking their power readings at all. They're all this... weak!" Krillin said in a hushed whisper, thinking aloud. Clearing his throat, he called out to 18 who was still in the lead, "Hey, 18? What was that all about?"  
  
"Why don't you ask the shrimp?" 18 sneered over her shoulder.  
  
"What?" Yamcha asked, surprised. He turned to look over his shoulder at Vegeta, who was following them. They seemed to be forming a loose diamond pattern as they walked. Yamcha noticed this, noticed that Vegeta was way too tense, and dropped back beside him to see what was wrong. "What does she mean, 'ask the shrimp'?"  
  
Before Vegeta could answer, a bell tolled in the distance. The fighters froze in midair. As the last of the chimes vibrated, 18 called out in a commanding voice, "Okay, you maggots! Time to clear out of the arena! Any stragglers will have to deal with Prince Gohan in the morning, and we all know how HE deals with stragglers! Move! Move! Move!"  
  
The area cleared out faster than a buffet table when Goku sat down to eat. Krillin let out a low whistle of amazement at the speed, looking around to see if anyone was there. "Wow! That's impressive. What was that all about?"  
  
"It's curfew for the fighters. We should get you to your rooms now," 18 said. "We wouldn't want you to get in any kind of trouble, now would we?"  
  
"Heh. I guess not," Krillin laughed as he rubbed his hand through his black hair.  
  
They started back for the guest quarters, and Vegeta and Yamcha, walking more slowly than Krillin and 18, fell quite a few steps behind them. Out of nowhere, the saiyajin softly spoke, "I'm the shrimp."  
  
"Huh?" Yamcha sounded, just as quietly. "What are you talking about?"  
  
"You asked earlier what the android meant by 'ask the shrimp'," he reminded. "You were supposed to ask me."  
  
Yamcha came to a full stop, a small, incredulous look on his face. He gazed at Vegeta, eyebrows drawn down a bit, mouth in a firm line. The frown deepened slightly when he turned his head to look at 18, but it lessened once his eyes fell on the former prince again. "Do they all dislike you that much, Vegeta?" he whispered.  
  
"They don't care enough to dislike me," the smaller male answered. "But that's how little they think of me." He looked pointedly at Yamcha before starting to follow Krillin and 18 again. "I told you. I'm nothing."  
  
"You're wrong," Yamcha murmured. "You could never be 'nothing', Vegeta. Not to me."  
  
The scarred man placed a reassuring hand on the smaller male's shoulder. A visible flinch jumped through the small physique. Swallowing hard, Vegeta glanced at the hand and then up at its owner. He slowed his pace and edged closer to Yamcha, urging the hand to move. The saiyajin knew one of two movements would happen. Either the hand would fall away completely, or the hand would slide around to his other shoulder, draping the arm in a half- hug. He prepared for the first, but prayed for the second. Daring to look back at Yamcha, he found that warm smile placed again on that handsome face, and the human's arm slid around his shoulders.  
  
Vegeta leaned slightly into Yamcha as 18 and Krillin passed a hall mirror, and the android just happened to be watching the image reflected in it.  
  
18, though not normally known for her observation skills, couldn't have missed that gesture unless she'd been bound with a sack over her head. It looked like nothing, but she was judging it by Vegeta's reaction, and therefore, she could see more in it. There was a kindness in the action, and suddenly, 18 had figured out what it was that had been bothering her the whole time since they'd met up with the other two.  
  
Yamcha was so tender with Vegeta, so nice. As if he... cared for the smaller male. Her disgust overcame her shock. It almost made the android gag. These humans were so weak, especially the scarred one. He was eager to slide back into a comforting role rather than being aggressive. At least Krillin was man enough to stand up to those low-class fighter wannabes. But that Yamcha... What a girl.  
  
She briefly wondered if the humans realized what a mockery they had made of Vegeta at the sparring grounds. Having to be protected by two insignificant little humans? Pathetic! She would've pitied the small saiyajin if she paid him any mind at all. But as it stood, she did not. He was nearly as -- if not just as -- unimportant to her as the two humans. Yes, she took note of the interaction between Yamcha and Vegeta; this much was true. However, she didn't dwell on it. The moment moved on, and 18 became bored once again, not even concerned enough to file away in her head what she'd just witnessed.  
  
***  
  
Outside the Palace, the world was cast in darkness. The moon hung suspended in the sky, only at half mass. The stars shown, but lacked a certain amount of joy that might be found elsewhere. Inside their rooms, the trio sat and thought about the day's events and all that had happened. They were not allowed to converse with each other, having been ushered into their rooms immediately upon arrival.  
  
The rooms were set up staggered down the hall with Piccolo being closest to the main entrance, and Yamcha being further inside. The three guards stood outside the doors to the visitor's rooms, doing their duty and 'guarding' their charges.  
  
18 leaned against the wall near her brother outside of the guests' quarters. "This is ridiculous," she stated. "Having to watch this stupid human is wearing down my patience. What was Lord Kakarrot thinking when he allowed this?"  
  
"Careful, 18," 17 admonished. "Don't say anything more. It could be misconstrued as treason. Lord Kakarrot would deactivate you... or worse. You remember what happened to 16..."  
  
The blonde android gritted her teeth. "I remember," she responded gravely. "But that's easy for you to say. You're the one who got the only one of them that even seems remotely interesting. Although I will give the runt in my charge some credit. He didn't hit on me, not even once. Must have a lot of will power," she decided. "But that'll change. Always does."  
  
"Mmm," he nodded. He knew that his sister was a tad disappointed the small human hadn't attempted something with her. She enjoyed a good fight just as much as the next person, if not more so. The blonde could certainly take care of herself; she was just as strong as 17, although 17 was the superior fighter. His eyes drifted down the curve of the hallway and landed on Vegeta, who was standing directly in front of the door to his charge's room. The short saiyajin seemed different somehow, but 17 couldn't put his finger on what that was. No, not really different. Preoccupied. Vegeta was there, physically, but his mind was definitely not on his duty. "What's his problem?" the black-haired android mumbled.  
  
"Oh, he's probably just being pissy," 18 remarked, waving her hand. "There was a tiny incident at the sparring grounds. Totally made a laughing stock out of him, but that's nothing new." She sighed. "Speaking of that, I had a lousy day. You would not believe the crap I had to put up with. How was your day?"  
  
"Fine," 17 stated, his voice firm and level. He didn't often hide things from his sister, but today's events with Piccolo and with... Trunks were not something they should discuss. If she knew about Trunks... Well, some things are safer left in the privacy of dark hallways and hidden passages.  
  
Vegeta kept his eyes trained to the smooth wall in front of him. Although perfectly aware that the two androids were gossiping about him, he didn't let it affect him. He had far more important things to consider.  
  
His own frailty was so evident to him that it was almost palpable. Was he so desperate for attention and affection that he would just fall immediately into the first seemingly open arms that would take him? That display earlier, walking down the halls with Yamcha's arm around him, was at the same time shameful and wonderful. The saiyajin shouldn't need or even want some human to take pity on him. It was disgraceful. Yet, he really wasn't certain that the scarred male pitied him. But surely it had to be pity. Yamcha didn't know him, couldn't care for him so quickly, could he? But then again, he reminded himself, there was another Vegeta that Yamcha knew. A Vegeta who was still the saiyajin prince technically but was nothing like him. The way the human described the prince, it didn't seem like he would feel sorry for him, however. As a matter of fact, Yamcha's description of the royal was anything but piteous.  
  
What had he said exactly? That he'd looked down upon everyone? That may have been true about him until Kakarrot had put him in his place. But not anymore. Vegeta had spent enough time as a pariah to act otherwise. But how could anyone feel sorry for a jerk with a superiority complex? That just didn't make any sense. Then again, the scarred male had say he'd always wanted to be friends with the other Vegeta. Once more, that didn't really compute. Was that what it was? Misplaced association? Did Yamcha mistake him for the other Vegeta?  
  
He still couldn't understand why someone as pleasant and decent as his human charge would be interested in being the friend of someone as unpleasant as the other version of him was made out to be. Unless it was all a front. But Yamcha didn't seem like he was lying to him. There was a sincerity in his eyes and voice that just couldn't be faked. No, no. Yamcha was genuine. And all of this led Vegeta to believe that all of his actions were genuine as well.  
  
But the real mystery that plagued the saiyajin's mind was the object of Yamcha's affection. Who could it be? He didn't talk much about anyone else in depth. Could it be the short human Krillin? They seemed close. Vegeta's frown deepened, and he shook his head slightly as if to clear it. No. It couldn't be Krillin. They appeared close, but it was a closeness between old friends, not possible lovers. His thoughts still lingered slightly on the green man in their company. He certainly had a presence that was not to be taken lightly, but was that something that drew Yamcha? The scarred human didn't look like the type to be pulled in by that. No, it wasn't him either.  
  
Who was this man who'd stolen Yamcha's heart? Now, obviously, he could ask the man himself, calling in one of his favors, but he despised having to do that for something so trivial. What other options did he have? How else could he subtly bring up the topic again? Could he trick the human into giving himself away? These questions tumbled through his head over and over, and Vegeta realized he wouldn't have to worry about falling asleep on the job that night.  
  
***  
  
Yamcha laid in his bed, staring vacantly at the ceiling. Where in Kami had they ended up? The seventh level of Hell? Madness, on some level, consumed practically every being he'd seen today. Goku was an evil dictator. Gohan was a bratty jerk. And from what he'd heard, Goten wasn't all that different from either of them. And Chichi? Nuttier than a fruitcake. Plus, all the little 'warriors' around seemed like a bunch of prancing morons. It was all just awful.  
  
Except Vegeta. The original Vegeta would've loved this. He could've taken Kakarrot down and ruled all on his own. But this Vegeta... He was better. Sadder, true, but better somehow. He'd been forced into letting go of all the uglier things the regular Vegeta portrayed openly. And Yamcha liked that. This Vegeta didn't look down on him. He didn't treat him like dirt. He listened to him, let him be sociable with him. They could be... friends.  
  
Why couldn't it be more? Yamcha sighed and draped his arm across his eyes. He should accept what he could. If this Vegeta wanted friendship only, then he should take it instead of wishing that he could manage the get him to want more than that. No, he was probably like his counterpart in that respect. Nothing but women-kind for him. Although, the human reasoned, it's not like he had much access to anyone at all since they treated him so poorly. It was such a shame the way they acted towards the saiyajin prince. Vegeta deserved so much more. He really seemed like a great guy, greater than the other Vegeta.  
  
The last thought floating through his mind before he drifted off to sleep was, "This place is so fucked up."  
  
***  
  
18 is an ugly, uncaring bitch.  
  
Vegeta is a wuss, and everybody picks on him.  
  
Goku somehow became Frieza... without the girly-ness.  
  
Gohan is like the old Vegeta, except in some way more of a priss.  
  
Goten acted just like... Piccolo. Well, the old Piccolo. The one before the real Gohan had gotten hold of him.  
  
Bulma is a whore.  
  
Chichi is insane. Well, more insane than the regular Chichi.  
  
Trunks is... Where was Trunks in all this?  
  
Krillin frowned slightly as he recounted all the things he'd learned today. Shaking his head, he curled up under the covers on the bed and went to sleep, thinking about nothing else other than that he had to get home as soon as possible. 


	4. Revelations

Disclaimer: The same standard bullshit. Summer and I don't own a damn thing with regards to DBZ. And ain't that a bitch? Too bad, too. I'd like to get my hands on them for a while. Maybe just Piccolo though. Props to y'all who've reviewed what we've written so far. Now, if only the rest of you would follow suit... We need reviews, dammit! Chop chop! Get with the reviewing!  
  
WARNING: This fic contains male/male relationships and/or sexual situations. Also, mentions of het relationships and/or sexual situations. Caution is strongly advised. This chapter is not for the faint of heart.  
  
Kingdom Come ~ Chapter 04  
  
The dawn's light entered the high windows through the slits in between the bars. Lord Kakarrot sat up against the headboard of the bed in which he was sleeping, the lush sheets pooled around him. He brushed a hand through the ragged spikes of his hair but did not dislodge their permanent placement. Beside him, and still unconscious, was his wife.  
  
Lady Chichi.  
  
Her hair was almost scalp short. Her small lips were set in a permanent pout. There were scars all along her arms and neck.  
  
Kakarrot grimaced at her. She was so weak. So unworthy of her place. Why she had to give birth to his sons, he'd never understand. She was next to useless as anything other than as a vessel for his offspring. Kakarrot shook his head in disgust, more with her than with himself, because he knew that it wasn't his fault she got pregnant. It was her own.  
  
He didn't understand why she couldn't have been... better. Like Bulma. Now, there was a woman. Intelligent. Strong enough to continuously be a challenge to conquer. She was a warrior, though not one of physical prowess, more of a strategic enemy. Bulma was one of the best fighters around, though she did her battles subtly and gracefully. Kakarrot knew that she manipulated him from time to time, though it wasn't until after she already had what she wanted.  
  
Bulma was nothing like his frail, raven-haired wench of a wife. Kakarrot snarled as his body automatically reacted to thoughts of the blue-haired woman by becoming aroused. Bulma was a real woman. Bulma was a challenge. Chichi... was not. Chichi had to be physically restrained and practically forced to do her wifely duties.  
  
Kakarrot climbed out of bed and grabbed his pants. He'd go visit his mistress, whether she wanted him or not. He didn't want to waste his energy fighting with his wife to have a little bit of fun. She wasn't worth it. On the other hand, knocking her on her ass was amusing, and that's what it usually took to shut her up. That, or threats. She responded nicely to threats.  
  
Once clothed, Kakarrot left the room, his wife still unconscious on the bed. Nappa was beside the door, alert as always, his brown tail wrapped firmly around his waist. He bowed respectfully to his liege as Kakarrot walked past. "Nappa."  
  
"Yes, m'lord?" Nappa replied, keeping his eyes to the floor.  
  
"I'm going to allow you to have tomorrow off. Get another guard to watch over her," the ruler said.  
  
"Thank you, m'lord," Nappa rejoiced. It had been a long, long time since he had had a day off.  
  
Kakarrot barely paid the thanks any attention. His thoughts were already racing on to other things. Upon reflection, a nice stop at the kitchens was in order before he went to visit his azure gem. With a quick turn, he moved in that direction.  
  
He was bored. He needed a vacation. Something new to do, or at least something to break the monotony of running a galactic empire. Yes, something interesting to do other than the 'same old same old'. He ate when he wanted to eat. He slept with whomever he wished, though Chichi was starting to give him a bit more grief lately. Perhaps he should put the fear of god in her again. With an evil smirk, he latched onto that idea. What would frighten his little human harpy? The last thing that did that was... Kakarrot laughed aloud. Yes! He'd go purge a planet, his hysterical wife by his side, screaming his name as he killed off another planet. He'd even let Nappa come, just to keep watch over her. Yes, that was just what he needed to do. There wasn't anything of too much interest around the palace at that time, so it would be good to get away.  
  
He had hoped that the large green man that Jeice had brought forth last week would have entertained him, but alas, that was not to be. He preferred the company of his guard and his fellow humans over that of the many semi- worthy fighters vying for the opportunity to participate in the tournament. He had yet to actually see the stranger fight! Kakarrot snorted in disgust. If the man was a pacifist, he'd learn quickly that green was just another color in salad, and vegan is the other white meat.  
  
Kakarrot had no interest in the humans, though. They were of very low priority to him; after all, he defeated their entire race. What could two measly warriors, if that were their real standing, do to him? Nothing. He was sure of that. He rolled his eyes as he dismissed them from his consciousness. They were meaningless and he wasn't going to waste his time even thinking about them.  
  
**  
  
The rose color of his scouter did nothing to hide the beauty of the person who was framed in the eyepiece. Gold eyes watched in silent adoration as the human slept peacefully. It was early morning, yet he had yet to pull away the curtains to banish the lingering shadows. Filmy curtains surrounded the bed, doing nothing to conceal the bed's lone occupant. Taking a deep breath to steady his heart, Zarbon continued to watch his charge, well aware that she was waking up.  
  
"Good morning, Zarbon," Bulma said as she sat up in bed, the satin sheets slipping away from her bare body like water to pool at her waist. Her long blue hair was in a thick braid down her back, just like his long green hair. Bound and tied, just like they both were. "Did you sleep at all last night?"  
  
"Yes, mistress," Zarbon replied, his voice even, betraying nothing as he watched her semi-nude form climb gracefully from the bed. "Thank you for asking."  
  
"I only ask because when I fell asleep last night, you were standing in exactly the same spot." Bulma smiled back. This was a routine of theirs, the show and the conversation. It was the same almost everyday, very seldom were there any variations on it.  
  
"I am supposed to guard you, even as you sleep. How can I do that if I do not watch?" Zarbon bowed as she neared him. He closed his eyes as she passed, not able to look at her as she came so near, yet had to remain ever so far away.  
  
They both knew that Zarbon actually enjoyed watching Bulma sleep. And that she enjoyed the knowledge that he was close, protecting her, even though the one she needed the most protection from was the one person to whom he had to bow. He followed her into the bathing chambers. Again, it was all part of the ritual.  
  
Her underwear fell to the white tile floor of her personal bathing chamber. She left them where they fell, knowing that someone would come along and take them to clean them. She turned on the hot water of her bath and waited for it to fill. She didn't have to wait long.  
  
Zarbon watched with naked longing in his eyes, but those golden orbs were hidden by the red scouter and by the heavy steam that quickly over took the room. He could still see her body perfectly as she stepped into the tub. It was a perfect body. She sat up on her knees to wash her body, but when the front was complete, she signaled to him that she needed his assistance. She looked at him over her shoulder and jerked her head. He walked slowly over to her, his blood rushing in his ears as loud as the sound of the water as it cascaded down to strike against her pale flesh.  
  
Bulma closed her eyes and leaned forward. She allowed a slight shiver to pass through her body as she felt Zarbon begin to wash her back with the bar of soap and his bare hand before re-washing her with a washcloth. He needed to wash her hair next.  
  
With relish, Zarbon freed the tight braid and ran his fingers through it. He loved the feel of her hair, soft and silky. His was similar, yet different in so many ways. He knew he would die content if he had the ability to simply rub the soft azure tendrils over his light blue flesh, but he knew that was not a possibility. He sat up from his kneeling position beside the tub so that he could cup her head as she leaned back to soak all her hair. His gaze darted away from her face to travel down the center of her body, averting just after the dip that was her bellybutton. There were things he wanted at which he dared not even look because he knew they would simply torment his dreams. With a heavy sigh, he put his playing away and grabbed a large dose of shampoo.  
  
Bulma managed to stifle a groan of pleasure. There was something very erotic about having her lovely guard wash her hair, the feel of his hands massaging her scalp. She bit her lip and closed her eyes, trying to hide how much she wanted more. It would only depress them both further.  
  
Zarbon hadn't always been her guard. At one time, there was another, though it was so long ago that she barely remembered the man. It wasn't a pleasant memory. Lord Kakarrot had found them in her room, the guard trying to help her out of an extraordinarily complicated gown. The next day, the guard's head was on a spike outside of her window, and his various body parts were scattered around the sparring field. It was at that time that Lord Kakarrot forbid her from wearing any kind of gown that would require any kind of assistance out of, unless HE was the one to 'help' her out of them. No, not a pleasant thought at all.  
  
With his hands cupping her head again, she leaned back to rinse all the soap out of her hair. They rested there, their breathing mirroring each other in perfect unison. But it didn't last. It never did. With twin sighs, they moved again. Bulma sat up, and Zarbon released her. They stood up together. Water raced down her body, crashing into the waiting pool. Zarbon grabbed a nearby towel to wrap around her nude form.  
  
Bulma put on a simple slipover dress. She would prefer a pair of pants. Maybe armor to keep her 'master' away, but she wasn't going to push her luck quite that far. Zarbon stood against the far wall, remaining at a respectable distance from her. It was a good thing, too. Because just as she finished adjusting her clothes, Lord Kakarrot himself strode into her room.  
  
With a swift nod of his head, he kicked Zarbon out of the room. The powder blue-skinned alien bowed respectably to both of them, though he only bowed once, before he left the room. Blue eyes and gold met for less than a heartbeat and went completely unnoticed by Lord Kakarrot, but that was enough time for their mutual exchange of emotions.  
  
Zarbon shut the door with a soft click. His hand remained on the panel for longer than was needed as he tried to listen in on the goings on in the room. But, as usual, there was nothing to which he could listen. With a heavy heart, he pushed away from his prison. He began to walk, though he lacked a destination. He simply put one foot in front of the other and kept moving. He wasn't that hungry. He wasn't tired. He had bathed earlier that day. He was simply... displaced.  
  
He found his feet carrying him to the guests' bathing garden. He had discovered that the flowers there were among the best, aromatically, and brightest on the grounds. Bulma usually loved them. As he wandered through the lush vegetation, he was brought up short by the scene in front of him. The female guard, 18, was laying on her back while reclining on a rock near the large pool, sound asleep. In the water, the two visiting humans were relaxing, talking in low tones to each other.  
  
None of the other warriors wasted their days bathing when there was still the opportunity to improve their fighting skills. But no one thought the humans were there to actually enter the tournament. There was even whispering among some that the humans were spies for another rebellion, or for their green guardian.  
  
And not too far away was the one person that Zarbon truly hated. Vegeta. The short saiyajin had been under Lord Frieza's scrutiny for some time before Kakarrot came and killed the ice-jin. But what truly irritated Zarbon, what made him truly angry, was that HE was used to insult Mistress Bulma! She had to sleep with that... that... wretchedly weak joke of a warrior! And he didn't even favor females! He remembered that night with sickening clarity, how she had been forced to bring Vegeta's body to arousal, and then to mate with that scum. She kept her eyes averted from his, watching only the saiyajin, crooning to him as she was forced to perform like some circus animal! The injustice of it all was enough to make the powder blue guard sick. His fist clenched tightly, absently crushing the delicate blossoms he had already collected for a chain to decorate his hair... and that he would have eventually have given to his Mistress.  
  
He knew Vegeta couldn't see him through the foliage. But that didn't stop the lizard-like alien from viewing the saiyajin guard. Even through the pain of true, blinding rage, Zarbon noticed that something was a little different. At first, the tall guard couldn't place what it was that seemed eerily familiar and very out of sorts with the short guard. He glanced to where Vegeta was looking, and his golden eyes came into contact with the taller human's body.  
  
Realization struck Zarbon. He knew why that look was so familiar. He saw it every day when he looked into a mirror. It was the look of someone who was completely and utterly in love... with someone they would never be able to have. Zarbon grinned in wicked delight. It was about time something went right in the universe, and time that the short saiyajin prince endured the same kind of hell he did every day of his guardianship over Mistress Bulma.  
  
With a smug grin, Zarbon set himself up to watch the scene unfold, wondering if there would be any more signs of his infatuation.  
  
***  
  
18 lounged on a sitting rock in the guests' bathing garden. Guests were so lucky, she decided. They had their own bathing pool in a garden of all places, not even having to share like the rest of them. Sure, she didn't have to share as she had her own tub, but her bathing area certainly wasn't any garden. Chewing lightly on a stem of grass, she watched the two human males reclining in the bathing pool. Such insipid little men. The little one wasn't terrible though. No, he seemed half-decent on occasion. Too peaceful for her tastes though, that much was true.  
  
Oh, but how tedious this babysitting was! Her eyes drifted over to the other guard. Ugh. Vegeta. He was such a loser. Just the way he was staring at his charge made her roll her eyes. He was gazing at Yamcha so intensely that she swore the scarred human's head would burst at any second. The blonde android decided to lie down and stare at the sky. Watching the clouds roll by was oddly far more entertaining for her.  
  
Yamcha yawned and stretched a little. "Hey, Krillin," he said. "Where are Piccolo and 17?"  
  
"Probably walking around some," the little human replied, leaning against the side of the pool. "Maybe they're checking up on Tr--that thing Piccolo mentioned. You know?"  
  
Nodding, the taller male picked up on his friend's train of thought. Ever since Piccolo had told them about the lavender-haired demi-saiyajin, they'd understood if he wanted to try and keep an eye on him some. They could scarcely believe that Trunks was just a wisp of a person, if Piccolo's brief description had been accurate, which they were sure it was. He'd warned them not to discuss Trunks openly. "Yeah. I'll bet you're right. It's nice that he's looking into that, huh?"  
  
"Yep," answered Krillin. "Although, who knows? They could be anywhere, really. It's not like any of us check in with each other."  
  
"Well, he's with 17, and 17 seems to be a pretty decent guard," the scarred man stated. "Piccolo seemed okay with him."  
  
"Oh. Yeah," he smirked. A hint of sarcasm entered his voice as he continued. "My 'guard' watches me really well. How's that guard thing working out for you, dude?"  
  
Yamcha ventured a furtive glance at Vegeta. How was that working out? Very confusing. He looked like Vegeta, but he so wasn't the same man. Not by a long shot. In some ways, he sensed the same pride and honor in him, but for the most part, this saiyajin prince had been broken. One could see Vegeta's tail wrapped so tightly around his waist that it was the next best thing to a low riding noose, it was so tense. Yet, strangely enough, Yamcha wasn't all that sure he didn't prefer this Vegeta to the original. "Surprisingly well, actually."  
  
"Nifty."  
  
The short human heard a light sound and turned to look towards it. 18 had fallen asleep. He snorted his discontent quietly. If he had never met his 18, is this what she would've become? A hedonistic bitch? And to think he'd grown his hair out for her. That gesture was just totally wasted here. Suddenly, his mind lit upon an idea. But whom could he ask? Not 18, that was for sure. His eyes landed on Vegeta, and he thought the saiyajin would have to do. He called out, "Hey, Vegeta."  
  
The former prince switched his gaze over to the short human. "Yes?"  
  
"Do you know where I can get a pair of scissors and a razor? Maybe some shaving cream too."  
  
"The palace has a barber," Vegeta responded. "He would have the items you require."  
  
"Excellent!"  
  
"Krillin, what are doing?" queried his human friend.  
  
"You'll see." Krillin hopped out of the bath and quickly dried himself before pulling on his clothes. So consumed with his activities, he didn't notice another being in the garden quickly dodge beneath some shrubbery. Instead, he strutted confidently over to his guard and nudged her leg with his toe. "Wakey-wakey, 18."  
  
The android awoke with a start, silently chastising herself for falling asleep. "What is it?" she questioned sharply.  
  
"I want to go to the barber," Krillin said matter-of-factly.  
  
18 rolled her eyes again, and with a heavy, resigned sigh, she said, "This way."  
  
Yamcha's eyes followed them out of the garden, and then they turned to the only person left with him, Vegeta. He watched in interest as the prince's thick brown tail slowly relaxed until it simply flowed to a curled position behind his back. Submerging himself up to his chin in the bath waters, he gulped a bit. The two of them stared at each for a few moments before Yamcha let a façade of ease slide over his features. "Do you wanna join me?" he asked.  
  
"No," came the pointed reply.  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Why should I?"  
  
"Well, I haven't seen you bathe once since I met you," Yamcha smiled.  
  
"Are you saying that I smell?" Vegeta's eyes narrowed.  
  
"Oh, no! NO! I didn't mean that!" he said, standing up and shaking his head with his hands placed defensively before him. "I didn't mean that at all!" Vegeta merely snorted and averted his eyes away from the bare form presented to him, trying to keep his eyes from the water barely covering up to just above the dark tangle of hair between his legs. Yamcha's hands moved to rest on his hips. He tried again, "All right, so when do you take a bath?"  
  
"I bathe while you sleep." The saiyajin kept his eyes focused solely on the ground, not letting them anywhere near the completely naked human. He had to change the subject, do something to get the human to either dress or get back down in the water. "Did you sleep well last night, Yamcha?"  
  
"I slept okay," the human shrugged. He settled into the waters again, much to Vegeta's relief. "The bed's kinda big for just one person. I'm not really used to that."  
  
"Used to sleeping alone?" Vegeta queried. "Or to having a large bed to yourself?"  
  
"The second one." Yamcha leaned back against the pool edge, spreading his arms out along it. "I always sleep alone. Which is good since I have a small bed. No real need to get a larger one if you always sleep alone, you know?"  
  
Always alone, huh? So there was no one. A week ago, Yamcha had alluded that there was someone in whom he was interested, but obviously the human didn't betray his heart. He stayed alone. Interesting. Was he that devoted to someone who didn't want him? Or was that a choice he made for himself? Did that make him... available? Before his mind could catch up with his mouth, the saiyajin blurted out, "Why do you sleep alone?"  
  
Light pink tinged the scarred cheeks. "Um, I don't know. I mean, I know," he stumbled. His lungs expelled a deep sigh. "You see, the others where I'm from... They don't really see me like that. At least not since I was practically a kid. Mostly, the rest of the world forgot I exist. Which means... It's just me by myself."  
  
How profoundly sad. Vegeta grimaced slightly at the thought that anyone could ever forget about Yamcha. Again, he found himself wanting, needing, to change the subject. "Tell me more about your world," he began. "Tell me more about the other... me. You said I had a wife and a son? What are they like?"  
  
Yamcha rubbed a bit at the back of his neck. "Well, her name is Bulma. She... She's a decent woman and very pretty. Too strong-willed for my tastes. You've been with her for, oh, I don't know. Twenty-something years, maybe? You have a son named Trunks with her. I'm not really sure how you feel about either of them since you keep things like feelings to yourself. You're not really the sharing type. Nor the talkative type. You mostly just keep to yourself."  
  
Mistress Bulma? Trunks? Yes, some things were the same. But one night of punishment did not a marriage make. Thank the stars for that. Being forced into copulating with that woman while her blue-skinned freak of a guard watched was just too much. That experience had been awful, and he didn't wish to dwell on it. Pushing that memory far from his mind, he picked a different thought to pursue. "Do I have friends?"  
  
A long pause stretched out before Yamcha finally gave an answer. How was he supposed to answer a question like that? Should he lie? Would it make a difference? He resolved again that he wouldn't lie to Vegeta. Locking gazes with him, he answered, "No. You won't let anyone be your friend. You don't need friends. Friends are a weakness. You said that once."  
  
"No." Vegeta's jaw jutted out a little indignantly. The other Vegeta sounded cold, dreadful. How could they possibly be the same person? That was it, he surmised. They couldn't be the same. He and the other saiyajin prince were no more alike than he and Lord Kakarrot. But was Yamcha aware of that? Again, the unpleasant suspicion dared to creep into his mind. Was the human mistaking him for the other? The saiyajin instantly made up his mind to make sure he always stressed to the scarred male that he and the other him were absolutely separate, different beings. "He said that. That's a thing I'd never say."  
  
Yamcha smiled warmly at Vegeta and waded over to the end of the pool to which he sat nearest. He folded his arms on the deck and rested his chin atop them. "You're right, Vegeta. You're not the same. You're better."  
  
They gazed at each other for a long moment, longer than they probably should have. There were no sounds between them, only the rushing descent of the small waterfall in the pool. As their eyes stayed fixed on one another's, a million volumes were spoken, dying before they ever truly reached the ears of the other. Silent words fell unacknowledged by either party. They were just content to look at each other and ignore what their eyes were saying.  
  
But finally, Yamcha broke the comfortable peace. "Could you hand me my towel?" he requested. "I think I'm going to start getting all wrinkly pretty soon."  
  
Vegeta crouched off of his sitting rock and retrieved the fluffy white drying cloth. Once he turned around though, he wished he hadn't. Yamcha had extracted himself from the bathing pool while the smaller man had been picking up the towel, and now he stood just outside reaching distance from Vegeta. The prince's dark orbs shamefully indulged themselves in the sight of the human's naked body. Rivulets of water trailed glistening paths down the thoroughly tanned skin, stretched taut over the well-formed muscles, drawing his eyes down the whole of the other male's body. He brought them back up to meet Yamcha's eyes and slowly offered the towel out.  
  
The entirety of their encounter was in slow motion. Every single look, every action seemed to be drawn out, done with meaning and purpose, though whether either of them was aware of that fact, no one would ever know. Taking the towel, Yamcha dutifully patted himself dry and then dressed as if on autopilot. He was conscious of Vegeta's eyes on him, which made him a little nervous. He remembered the first time he'd ever bathed in the saiyajin's presence. He'd been so self-conscious and modest, and he didn't know why. Was it merely the scrutiny, or was it the prince himself?  
  
They walked out of the garden together, side by side, as had become their custom. But unlike Piccolo, Krillin, and their guards, no personal space issues were regarded. Whereas Piccolo and 17 always walked next to each other but well out of reaching distance, and Krillin usually followed a few steps behind 18 rather than beside her, Vegeta and Yamcha could always come into contact with each other with the slightest of movements. They walked so closely that their arms brushed against the other with nearly every step. The proximity normally went unnoticed since the palace essentially ignored Vegeta, and Yamcha was of little consequence to them as well.  
  
But not today.  
  
***  
  
Zarbon sat back on his heels as the duo left the area. He was alone with only his thoughts and his observations. There was no doubt in his mind that Vegeta was smitten with the human. And though the blue male did not know the human nearly as well as he knew the saiyajin, he thought that perhaps the infatuation was returned.  
  
The waterfall masked the sounds of their conversation, but did nothing to hide their body language. When it came down to facts, nonverbal communication was just as informative as any language, if not more so. Zarbon had a taste of revenge by watching Vegeta's uncertainty, his delicate blushes. It was almost comical, if it weren't so close to his own truth.  
  
He decided to follow the two for a while. Lord Kakarrot wouldn't be done with his business with Mistress Bulma for a few more hours, so he had time. He had a great deal of time, and this interesting development would keep his mind off of what was going on in his and The Azure Jewel's room. He would keep out of sight, keep to himself. He did not think that alerting the entire palace to this would be advantageous. Or at least, not yet.  
  
In part, he wanted to see Vegeta stumbling over himself, see his embarrassment as they dealt with each other. Zarbon wanted to see Vegeta suffer as he did, to know the hell that was his every waking day as he guarded, walked beside, and tended to the person he wanted more than anything in the universe, and knew he'd never have. But though that part was most prominent, there was also another part, a side that had been tempered over time, that hoped his suspicions were correct in that the human felt more delicate feelings for the saiyajin.  
  
Because, though wanting and being denied were hell, wanting unrequitedly was worse.  
  
***  
  
'Who ever thought to paint these walls should be shot. This color is atrocious!' Goten thought as he tracked the delicate movements of his prey. He was forced to rely on a motion detector rather than his custom-made scouter. These walls were just too thick for the scouter to pick up such low rankings.  
  
Goten had been at this game for a long time, too long by his estimations. Tracking the Palace Ghost was not one of his preferred past-times, though punishing the other demi-saiyajin was infinitely more fun. His brown tail hugged him tightly in anticipation. Trunks was destined to pay for all this needless hassle. Finally, Goten detected that the other male was almost... almost...  
  
No one watching the youngest prince would have been able to see the movement, or at least, no one he knew. The wall was blasted away, plaster and paint. Huddled in the vertical crater, Trunks was vulnerable. Goten smirked at the wide-eyed expression. "Hello, Trunks-kun. We need to chat."  
  
Trunks whimpered as Goten grabbed him by the hair and dragged him out of the wall. He already knew this was going to be painful. It was always painful. Always. But Goten had a special knack for being the best at being the worst. Of course, Trunks knew that it didn't help that he'd been avoiding the youngest of the princes for so long a time, fully aware that the longer he drug out the hide and seek game, the more he was going to suffer for it in the end. There was just something inside of him that said running away was the best way to get away.  
  
"Well, Trunks-kun, it's a beautiful day outside, so what are you doing hiding away from the sunlight? Hmm? Oh, were you simply hiding from me? You know that's a bad idea. A very bad idea," Goten said as he slammed Trunks against the far wall and then pressed his knee just above the limp tail. "You should know better. Even dogs know never to disobey their masters. And lets face it, Trunks, you're no better than that bitch of a whore your mother is."  
  
Trunks cried out in pain as the pressure increased. Something was going to break this time. He knew it. Something was going to break and he was going to die. Or worse. There were always things worse than death available in the Palace.  
  
"Your father's a dog. Your mother's a bitch. That means you're a mongrel dog yourself. And you should know that when I say bark, you should BARK!" Goten growled. His tail unwound from its secure embrace to curl up behind him. "And you should never, never, NEVER run from your master, do you understand me?"  
  
"Yes!" Trunks cried out in pain, trying to struggle away but failing miserably. He needed to get away, needed to get to safety away from Goten and the pain that was about to come forward.  
  
"It took me a week to track you down. Are you trying to fight me?" Goten asked, deadly serious. "I've put my Hell Hounds to sleep for less."  
  
"No," Trunks lied.  
  
"I don't believe you, little whore," Goten hissed. "Tell you what, why don't you tell me every dark little secret you know about these three strangers that Jeice brought in, and I might just let you go without hurting you too badly."  
  
"I don't know anything," Trunks replied through clenched teeth. He cried out in agony as Goten yanked back on his hair, putting him into a very painful position.  
  
"That's another lie," Goten snarled. "One more lie, and I'll break your back and not even your mother will be able to repair you."  
  
"Gods! I'm telling the truth! I don't know anything! I swear!" Trunks screamed. For his honesty, Goten shoved the lavender-haired demi-saiyajin's face into the wall three times in rapid succession.  
  
"Tell me, oh, dear Trunks-kun, where these strangers are from."  
  
"I don't know!" Again, his face was shoved into the wall.  
  
"What are they doing here?"  
  
"They're here for the tournament."  
  
"That's better," Goten replied, all calmness and control. "Why are they here for the tournament?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
Goten tsked as he rammed Trunks' head into the wall before moving and throwing him to the ground. "And here I thought you were learning."  
  
Trunks coughed as blood raced back up his nose. He tried to sit up, but Goten was already on him, straddling his chest, preventing him from trying to breathe. His blue eyes looked up at the person he knew, he simply knew, was going to kill him. If not today, then some day in the near future.  
  
"Now, I want you to answer my questions. No more stalling. No more games. No more pleasantries. If you don't answer me, then there will be pain. When does Piccolo practice?" Goten asked as he cocked his fist back, ready to strike the already bloodied youth.  
  
"He doesn't. All he does is meditate," Trunks replied, blood splattering out with his words. "He likes the waterfall in the eastern garden. He's there almost every morning at dawn."  
  
Goten filed that fact away. "What about his human pets?"  
  
"They don't fight," the lavender-haired youth choked. "They don't sleep with each other, either. They're there for... conversation."  
  
"Conversation?"  
  
"They talk. A lot. Whispers. Too soft to hear. Sometimes, it's like Piccolo is telepathic or something. They don't even use words. Simply do things." Trunks coughed.  
  
"Do things? Like what?" Goten said, keeping his fist in the ready position.  
  
"I don't--," he started then abruptly cut himself off. He wasn't going to say he didn't know something again. Not again. "Nodding their heads. Hand gestures, but not like signals. Like they've known each other forever."  
  
"I see," the dark-haired royal nodded. "Which one of them do you follow the most often? Piccolo? Do you watch the others as well?"  
  
"I don't follow the two humans much, if at all," Trunks replied, his eyes going slightly out of focus. Where was that ringing coming from?  
  
"Damn. You're useless," Goten spat disgustedly. He didn't bother hitting the weak hybrid. Instead, he slapped him hard, waking him up slightly. "You listen to me, little whore. You can be the Palace Ghost all you want, but if you find anything -- and I do mean ANYTHING -- of interest, you had best tell me. If I even think that you're holding out on me, you will regret more than simply being born. Understand. Think PAIN."  
  
"Step away from him now," a new voice suddenly boomed into the hallway.  
  
Goten jerked upright. Was that supposed to be an order? "Excuse you. I'm Prince Goten. I'm allowed to do whatever the hell I want to."  
  
But then Piccolo stepped further into the hall, and further into Goten's sight, and the youngest prince had to gulp. The Demon Lord seemed angry, and his anger was very... intimidating. The prince's tail re-wrapped around his middle. Scowling, Goten stood up, allowing Trunks the opportunity to scamper like some miserable rodent over to his savior. Goten's keen eyes did not miss the android's turn, as if to help the lavender-tailed creature, but 17 knew his place. The short ponytail of black hair barely swung in acknowledgment of the near dereliction of duties.  
  
"I know who you are," Piccolo replied, his arms folded over his chest, standing tall as he continued to walk forward. "17, get Trunks out of here."  
  
"But..."  
  
"I'm going to be watched. Prince Goten is here," the green man stated, his voice thick with contempt and venom. "He can watch over me to make sure nothing happens until you return."  
  
17 bit his lip, but bowed to his charge's orders. Goten had made no protest, so he took it as a sign of consent. He picked up Trunks easily, gingerly, and made his way back to his room. That's where he always took Trunks when he found him bleeding in the hallway and his mother was... busy. His loose uniform barely made noise as he walked. Trunks clung tightly to him, and even his tail managed to find some life again as it wrapped around the android's waist.  
  
"You're very arrogant," Goten said, his voice betraying none of his anger, which he found to be a personal victory. Emotions tended to cloud judgment and interfere with his particular line of work.  
  
"So are you," the tall male responded.  
  
"I'm entitled. I'm a prince, second in line to inherit the throne."  
  
"So," Piccolo sneered. "You're a royal pain."  
  
"How DARE you!" Goten said in shock. No one mocked him, with the exception of his father and elder brother. He would kill anyone who even thought to. With wide eyes, he gathered a large energy sphere in his hand and threw it at the grass-colored man.  
  
Piccolo easy deflected the energy blast, forcing it away and into the already formed crater in the wall. A doorway was formed to an outside garden, one that had obviously been forgotten about over time. With a calmness that belied his anger, he replied, "How dare I? I dare because I can. Because you do NOT frighten me."  
  
Goten's eyes blazed, though he tried to keep his actions methodical and unemotional. It was difficult, however, considering how much he just wanted to attack the other man. But it seemed Piccolo was stronger than he had thought. It was never wise to underestimate an opponent twice. He needed more information before he fought the strange warrior. His eyes flickered to the over hanging foliage of the garden. With a smirk, he dashed inside of it.  
  
Piccolo rolled his eyes and followed. If Goten wasn't careful, he was going to push Piccolo's patience past its limits. He had endured this hellish environment for a week now, and that was a week too long. His friend, Gohan, was a prissy, whining royal brat. Goten, for whom he had always had some form of respect, was totally dishonorable here. Even Goku, or rather, Lord Kakarrot was despicable. "What's wrong, PRINCE Goten? Found someone who fights back? Can you only stand to fight those weaker than you, those who you know will not pose a threat? Is that how you get your power?"  
  
"You know nothing of my POWER!" Goten called back, unintentionally giving in to his emotions. Piccolo seemed to know where he was, and it was scaring him. "You know nothing of what a super-saiyajin is! But you will if you do not leave me alone this instant!"  
  
"I know more than you think, little demi-saiyajin," Piccolo hissed, right in his ear. Goten whirled around and stumbled back but was caught by the collar of his shirt by a large green hand. "I know what it's like to be beaten down, to be hated, and to be feared. I also know what it's like to be worshipped as a god!"  
  
Goten's tail tightened as his eyes widened. He tried to stutter a reply, but Piccolo pulled him right up to his taller frame and leaned down into his face. They were so close, the green man would only have to shift slightly and they would have been able to kiss.  
  
"Oh, wait. You wouldn't know what it's like to be a super-saiyajin. You haven't reached that level, have you? You're not good enough to," Piccolo whispered.  
  
"Get your filthy hands off me!" Goten screamed as he struggled to break the seemingly impossibly strong grip that had him captured.  
  
Piccolo merely grinned evilly, showing a part of his past that he had thought long dead. Instead of bowing to the prince's wish, he threw Goten up against the wall, letting his feet dangle down, and pressed their bodies together. "Why? Give me a valid reason to release you."  
  
"Because I demand it!" Goten shrieked. Piccolo was too close. Way too close. This situation was out of control, and he was becoming slightly more than just merely afraid. "You need no other reason!"  
  
"Oh, but I do," Piccolo replied, noticing the widening of brown eyes as adrenaline began to pulse through the youth's system. With their bodies crushed so tightly together, the green male couldn't help but be aware of the other physical effect he was having on the younger man. "I'm stronger than you. I'm bigger than you. And I'm better than you will ever be."  
  
"You are NOT better than me," Goten said softly. He could feel the heated flush spreading out over his body as he struggled between Piccolo and the wall. His arousal was overtly apparent to him, and he didn't doubt the other man could feel it as well.  
  
"Yes I am. And do you know why?" Before Goten could even think to formulate a reply, Piccolo continued. "I'm better than you, not because I am stronger, or a better fighter. I'm better than you because I know what compassion is. I KNOW what justice is. I KNOW what HONOR is. It's obvious that you do not."  
  
"I know what justice is!" Goten snapped angrily, squirming, still trying to get away.  
  
"No. You know what vengeance is. That is not justice," Piccolo retorted. "You think very highly of yourself, don't you."  
  
"I am a prince and the Royal Inquisitor. What reason would I have not to think so?"  
  
"You think everyone else is beneath you?"  
  
"Everyone else IS beneath me," Goten glared, still trying to move the other male off of his person.  
  
"No. They are not. If you ever dared to open your eyes, you'd see the world isn't YOUR personal playground to bully around," Piccolo said, licking his lips through the visible fangs. Goten's eyes locked onto the green man's mouth. "Trunks has done NOTHING to you, yet you torment him! Why?!"  
  
"Because I can," the demi-saiyajin replied huskily.  
  
"Wrong answer," Piccolo spat, dropping the prince to the ground without warning. "You know, you have such potential, but you refuse to grasp it. It's disgusting to see you living at this level of... utter worthlessness. They say you have a keen mind, yet I haven't seen you use it. They say that you are strong, but I have merely seen you fighting those that put up hardly any resistance. Is your entire existence made of rumors and speculation?"  
  
"I am strong!" Goten shouted, getting to his feet even as he pushed his tears away. He refused to cry over the insults of some... nobody fighter! He needed a moment to collect his thoughts, to get his body under control, to banish the stupid emotions that were churning inside of him. But he knew he didn't have that moment. "I am the Royal Inquisitor! And second in line to the throne of the Galactic Empire! You have NO RIGHT to talk to me in such a disrespectful manner!"  
  
Growling with anger, Piccolo slapped the demi-saiyajin, knocking him through the fauna and into the far wall. Before the prince could recuperate, though, Piccolo was there, picking him up and tossing him away as if he really were merely a piece of trash.  
  
"Is that all you've got?" Piccolo smirked. "Titles are meaningless if you can't back them up with real authority."  
  
Goten shook his head to clear the ringing sounds away, but it only made him dizzy. He wasn't aware of standing until he felt the wall to his back, and he was looking into Piccolo's eyes again. After he realized his position, he also realized that it was only one of Piccolo's hands holding him pinned against the wall. "Who... Who the hell are you?"  
  
"That is not the issue here. I KNOW who I am, what I am. But who are you, Goten?"  
  
"I am the Royal Inquisitor."  
  
"No. That is your placement in society. That is not who you are."  
  
"I'm also the Royal Prince."  
  
"Again, that's just another title. Something you were born into. That isn't WHO you are."  
  
"I... I don't understand. What is it you want me to say?"  
  
"I want you to answer the question. I want to know who you are."  
  
"I-I am... Me."  
  
"And who is that?" Piccolo asked.  
  
"I am the Royal Inquisitor. The second in line to inherit the Galactic Empire," Goten said again, some strength returning to his voice as he repeated his titles.  
  
Piccolo snorted in contempt. "No. Those aren't who you are. Those aren't even what you are. When you can answer my questions, come back and talk with ME. Until then, know this: if I find you hurting anyone weaker than you, you will learn that it is unwise to cross anyone who has been considered both demon... and god."  
  
Instead of fighting anymore, Piccolo turned away. He could hear the steady fall of 17's booted feet coming down the hallway. "You may have the power. You MAY have the mind. But you lack a heart, and therefore, you lack everything of value. You disappoint me, Goten."  
  
"Is everything alright?" 17 asked as Piccolo emerged into the hallway.  
  
"Things are as they were before, with very minor changes in reality," Piccolo replied. He glanced quickly back at the rift in the wall, his sensitive ears picking up the demi-saiyajin's ragged breathing and choked- on half-sobs. He closed his eyes. He'd intended to put a little fear into Goten but not hurt him as he did. Unfortunately, without the original Gohan's presence, he'd lost control of that dark side, the one he'd been working so hard to get past all these years. The little prince had needed a swift kick to the rear, but he didn't deserve such hateful words. A light tremor of loathing towards himself ran through his veins. "I'm done here. Let's go."  
  
17 tilted his head to the side, curiously, but merely nodded his head and began to lead the tall warrior away from the large, gaping hole in the wall. Goten remained in the garden, though, shivering. His mind was racing, trying to think and to plan, but in the end, very little of his thoughts made any sense to him.  
  
The demi-saiyajin stared vacantly at the walls wild with undergrowth, tears making their way down his face from the outer corners of his eyes. When was the last time Goten had cried? He couldn't remember. In all truth, Goten wasn't sure he'd ever cried since he was a baby and had no memory. He had no time for tears in the past twenty-odd years of his life. But this man, this stranger, had found a way to make the tears come. He had pinpointed all of those secrets fears and doubts the demi-saiyajin had about himself but never allowed to surface. How did he know? How could he have possibly known?  
  
His mind whirled between topics, lighting on one and then quickly hopping off to another. But they all seemed to come back to the same subject in the end. Those intense, flashing eyes. That luscious mouth. That... body. He could still feel the pressure of Piccolo's firm, strapping frame against his even though the other man had long since departed. He looked down, a grimace solidly planted on his face. Gods! Was his body ever going to stop reacting to Piccolo? He couldn't touch himself. He wouldn't. No matter how much he desired to do so. Somehow, he felt as if bringing himself off in that fashion would be an affront towards Piccolo. It seemed... disrespectful... and wrong. Still, the interest built within his mind. Consumed with curiosity, the demi-saiyajin knew his path was clear. 


	5. Are You Now or Have You Ever Been?

Disclaimer: I, Summer Starr, don't own DragonBall Z. My co-author, Deanybean, doesn't own it either. Don't sue us. And don't blame us for making it BETTER than you did with Dragonball GT. Oh, there are also some Original Characters in here as well, though they've only got bit parts. They ARE ours, so don't even think about doing anything with 'em.  
  
Warnings: Slash and Het pairings. Don't like, don't read. We don't need you to make us feel better. Wait! I'm lying! Make us feel better; read our work! Give us FEEDBACK!  
  
Kingdom Come ~ Chapter 05  
  
The night was silent. Since Goku, or rather, Lord Kakarrot, had decided to go on vacation with Lady Chichi and Nappa, the palace had quieted down considerably. No more screaming. And the usual fights had even quieted down, as if they weren't needed now that the main judge wasn't around. After a month there, though, the noise was expected, and Yamcha was having trouble sleeping without it.  
  
Of course, he always had trouble sleeping. Alone. In a big bed. In a strange place. With people he didn't trust all around him. And only two friends close at hand. Or rather, three. With a huff of disgust, Yamcha threw off the covers.  
  
He had once lived in the desert. Hot days. Cold nights. He was used to that. It didn't mean he liked it, it was just something he was used to. After he and Bulma broke up, he was forced to live on his own in the large city, and he hadn't always had enough to make ends meet. Therefore, he sometimes sacrificed the heating bill in order to pay the groceries bill. Of course, that was before he became a professional baseball player.  
  
His room was dark, just as it had been since the first night. He stared through the darkness and through the shadows to the ceiling. The darkness was very much like the rest of the world. It was vaguely familiar, as if he had known this palace back in HIS reality. But everything was so much... darker here. Well, except for Vegeta. This world's Vegeta was... better than his world's.  
  
Sitting up, Yamcha gave up on sleep. With a sigh of boredom that comes from having a tired body yet an active mind, Yamcha climbed out of bed. He paced around the room for a few moments. He looked around, trying to find something to occupy his mind. The room was bare, though. Shrugging his shoulders, he thought to leave his room and go find something, anything to do. Perhaps Vegeta was having as much trouble sleeping as he was, and maybe they could go exploring. Of course, they'd have to keep clear of the hallway patrols and the two princes, but it might be fun. Like anything else, a forbidden fruit is always sweeter.  
  
Grinning, Yamcha opened the door... and then stopped cold. The hallway was still well lit, which made sense since people were still moving around. But what pulled Yamcha up short was not the lighting, though it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. Vegeta was curled up in front of the door, sound asleep. His thick brown tail was curled around him, and it almost seemed a fetal position. Yamcha gazed down at the sleeping saiyajin, his smile already gone, and then looked down the hall. The other two guards, 17 and 18, stood at attention in front of their respected doors. He opened his mouth to ask, but then closed it with a soft click. He knew the answer to the question, even before he asked.  
  
Vegeta was unallowed to leave his post, at least while Yamcha was vulnerable. And when was a person most vulnerable? When they were unconscious, of course. Brown eyes roamed over Vegeta's position, taking note that the shorter male was shivering slightly. With a snort of contempt at the entire world, but mainly the cold bastard who ruled this one, Yamcha went back into his room. The door slid shut behind him, but had to re-open as the scarred human returned with blanket in hand.  
  
As gently as possible, Yamcha draped his thick quilt over his guard tucking it slightly. As he stood up, he saw the two androids looking at him. 17 looked away quickly, as if not wanting to notice what the human had done. 18 merely smirked as she shook her head slightly, disgust written all over her face. She held no respect for these strange humans, least of all for Yamcha.  
  
Yamcha slipped back into his room, his body suddenly overcome with fatigue. He crawled onto his bed, tugging the light sheet around him. He pulled the pillow close, hugging it more like it was supposed to be another person rather than merely a soft, down-filled bag. Yamcha closed his eyes, and the darkness was complete.  
  
17 turned to look at the sleeping saiyajin prince through the red tint in his scouter. The movement caused his ponytail to sway ever so slightly, again. He did not hold Vegeta in high regards, but he didn't think to mistreat him, either. He was, after all, Trunks' father, and deserved -some- respect, though slight as it may be. He didn't know what to make of Yamcha's actions, though.  
  
On the one hand, they seemed to be done out of kindness. But, on the other hand, they only caused more grief to fall upon the short saiyajin, due to the fact that every time the human acted, it illustrated Vegeta's weaknesses. Such as this, letting him sleep on the job. Granted, the saiyajin was pure organic, and therefore his body demanded sleep, but he had been allowed to doze before, and wake up for their relief without anyone the wiser. Well, he and 18 knew, but they expected organics to sleep on the job at least part of the time. But this time there was a blanket, something that would just prove how inept Vegeta was at his task.  
  
17 wasn't going to say anything, however. Yamcha wouldn't understand the harm he was causing. In less than an hour, someone would be coming by to allow them to go to their rooms to bathe and eat before returning to their posts. That's when the others would see Vegeta curled up with his charge's bedspread! 17 sighed. If Vegeta had any pride left, it would surely have been killed with this little insult.  
  
"Thinking of getting to take a shower? I know I am. I'm filthy!" 18 asked softly.  
  
"Yes. A hot shower sounds great. And I need to wash my hair. My scalp itches," 17 replied, turning back to her. Of course, he didn't tell his sister that he was also looking forward to checking up on Trunks. The lavender-haired demi-saiyajin had taken to sleeping in his room since the last attack by Goten. Normally, since Lord Kakarrot was gone, he'd have slept with his mother in her bed, but since 17's bed was large, protected, and unoccupied, the three of them agreed that Trunks would be better served sleeping there. Also, if anyone entered the room, 17 would be permitted to hunt them down and kill them. It was, after all, HIS room.  
  
"Your scalp does not itch. That's just your imagination," 18 said smugly. It was an old argument between them. They weren't born machines, but they weren't organic anymore, either. So, to mess with each other, they would question what was really there, and what was simply ghost-limb like behavior.  
  
"My scalp itches," 17 retorted. He intentionally intoned his voice to be a little above normal, though not so that his sister would care or notice. She would think he was merely rising to her baiting. This was why HE was the better fighter; he noticed things.  
  
In the corner, where Vegeta lay, there was some stirring. The shorter guard sat up and looked at the blankets surrounding him. There was obvious confusion in his eyes, but he quickly masked it all by placing his scouter back on and standing up. He folded the blanket and placed it away from him. Heavy footsteps sounded coming down the hall. It was almost time for their break.  
  
Vegeta returned to his position just as the trio rounded the bend.  
  
Gamma, Sigma, and Theta. They were so identical, they may as well have all been clones. In fact, 17 was of the opinion that most of the fighters in Lord Kakarrot's legion were clones. They all acted the same, talked the same, and more often than not, they looked the same. As was the case with these three guards. As each guard made their replacement, the three -real- guards quickly made off for their desired destinations.  
  
Theta watched Vegeta walk away at nearly a run he left so speedily. Just inside his peripheral vision, he spied something tucked away in the corner. What was that? A blanket? Why was there a blanket in the hall? Unless... Theta smirked. Was that little whelp sleeping on the job? Oh, the princes were going to love hearing about this.  
  
***  
  
The servants moved around the table in absolute silence. The silverware was equally as mute. The only sources of sound in the room were the two high- profile men who sat at the ends of the table, large platters of food spread out before them. There were several different varieties of meat and the like. Different vegetables, desserts, breads, and fruits were presented as well.  
  
Goten was spooning a delicious soup, as Gohan told him about his day. The main lighting was provided by several candles around the room allowing the shadows to flicker and mask the movements of the servants as they passed by the table. As was usual, Gohan was doing all of the talking, and Goten was doing more of the thinking.  
  
"Ya know, I miss having ma around here. She was always good for a few laughs," Gohan commented after he gulped down a bite of bread and stew. "She'd sit in her corner, drooling, rocking back and forth, muttering to herself about demons. She didn't even flinch when we used to throw things at her."  
  
"Yes, but father was never very appreciative of us throwing food," Goten said as he dabbed his mouth dry. He frowned as he thought of his past deeds, feeling a little sick because he did remember the absolute... glee that he derived from inflicting those little acts of torture upon the woman. She was, well, harmless. It was like cooking moths for no reason. He doubted that was why his father was annoyed with their antics, though. In fact, he knew why he forbade them from going near their mother. "He did not like to see us taking advantage of HIS weakness. And she was weak."  
  
"True," Gohan sighed. "But it was fun."  
  
Goten merely refilled his plate with more food.  
  
"Anyway, it's a shame that da is taking so long with this little 'vacation' of his. I mean, it's not like he does anything anyway. He's just a figurehead," Gohan complained as he began to tear into a leg of a strange six-legged animal. "We do all the work. The planning, the data collecting, and all that crap."  
  
"True. But since he is away, this means he is not as underfoot as he normally is. And it IS quieter without HER here," Goten remarked dryly, knowing that his older brother had been doing very little of said tasks.  
  
"Yeah, which is a big plus," the heir replied. "Anyway, you'll never guess what I did today! And I do mean that! Not even YOU can guess what kind of fun I had."  
  
"You went to the arena today and nearly killed six fighters," Goten said, not bothering to open his eyes as he gently blew on his stew to cool it.  
  
"Well, yeah, I did that, too. And it was fun, let me tell you. That one fighter, what was his name? The one from South Central Lobos, the one that was all hairy and animal like. Well, anyway, his bones were a bit tougher to break than some of the others, but when they do break, they completely shatter. I don't think that's a very good evolutionary trait right there."  
  
"So, are you pulling him from the gene pool, then?" Goten asked, looking up with a raised eyebrow.  
  
"No, he's still one of their better fighters. Which, if ya think about it, that's rather sad."  
  
"If you think about it, all the other worlds' 'better fighters' are rather sad compared to our strength," Goten pointed out, sitting back.  
  
"You mean, they're sad compared to the strength of the Super Saiyajins, little brother," Gohan smirked before laughing. Shaking his head, he continued. "To tell you the truth, I'm still hoping to get into the ring with that Piccolo character. He's so... mysterious."  
  
"Very true. He is an enigma. He does not train. He does not fight, it seems. Yet, I know that he is very strong," Goten spoke reflectively, shoving his plate away, though he was by no means full. In a total breach of manners, he put his elbows on the table and rested his chin on the bridge created by his clasped hands. "He has a very commanding presence, and I get the impression that he can be very..."  
  
"Hot?"  
  
"I was going to say 'dangerous'," Goten stated, watching with half-lidded eyes as Gohan got that far away look in his eyes, the same one that the heir took on whenever he was thinking about going hunting... for a prospective concubine.  
  
"Yeah. I'd love to see his...erm, techniques. And movements," Gohan jeered. "I'm sure they're quite... informative. You know, his actions reflecting how he thinks, and all. Like, is he a talker, or does he scream during -- battle? How does his body move? I can't wait to find out. And I will. Mark my words. I am going to have Piccolo. He's very, er, interesting. Like a new delicacy, brought in from a distant solar system. Since he's a warrior, I plan on learning him like I'd learn an enemy, or an ally. And I imagine he and I will become very, very, very close allies."  
  
"Yeah. Sure, I guess," Goten said quietly. Part of him died as he looked at his older brother, knowing that Gohan was going to try to get, and was probably going to succeed in getting, the large green warrior.  
  
"Heh. That's right. You WOULDN'T know anything about THAT, would you?" Gohan laughed. It wasn't fair, was it? At long last, Goten thought that maybe, finally, he'd found someone who was worthy enough for him to take a chance on pursuing. Even if that's not ultimately where he would end up with Piccolo, he still wasn't going to get that chance. Not with Gohan in full game mode. It was all just a game to his older brother. Pick a target, chase the target, capture the target, keep it for future games. That was how it always was.  
  
A light wave of nausea pushed through the young demi-saiyajin. Gohan was going to sink his filthy claws into the green man, and there was nothing Goten could do about it. He'd win the game. He always won.  
  
Trying to shake off the sudden stupor Gohan felt as he thought of the mystery man, he continued, "Anyway, fighting is NOT the topic I was going to tell you about, though I am very glad you brought up such a ... stimulating conversation. I was going to tell you about the new duty roster. Vegeta is no longer guarding the human. What's his name?"  
  
"Yamcha."  
  
"Yeah, him. I've assigned Captain Ginyu to the position."  
  
Goten paused as he was raising his glass of wine to his lips. He had heard that some incident occurred regarding the guests and their guards, but he hadn't suspected that a replacement had been made. Somehow that didn't sit quite right with the younger male. "Really," he responded finally. "And what brought about this decision?"  
  
"He was caught napping on the job," Gohan smirked.  
  
"Confined to his quarters?" "Of course." "Hn." "What is it?"  
  
"Come on, Gohan," Goten sighed. "He's only flesh and blood. You know he has to sleep some time."  
  
A raised eyebrow met his statement. "Is that sympathy I hear coming out of -your- mouth?"  
  
"Of course not," answered his brother with a mocking roll of his eyes. "But I can't fault him for something I might have done myself."  
  
"True," nodded the elder demi-saiyajin. "Guarding a human must be so boring, even for someone as pathetic as Vegeta."  
  
"I imagine any guard duty is boring." Goten leaned back in his seat with his glass of wine. "I suppose. Not as irritating as being in charge of them, I assure you." Gohan shoveled a bit more stew into his mouth, not really caring if some spilt on the table or himself. Gesturing with a dinner roll, he went on, "I have a pile of discs on my desk like you wouldn't believe. It's as if these morons feel like they have to report -more- while our father is off- planet."  
  
The younger prince sipped gingerly from his glass. Watching his brother stealthily over the top of the rim, he questioned the other's decision. Goten had heard rumors, of course, that there was something slightly more than a mere guard-charge relationship between the human and the small saiyajin, but nothing which the prince could solidly confirm. He knew for a fact that Gohan paid little attention to rumors, so that likely didn't color his choice. Goten really didn't see the sense in what Gohan had done. A reprimand may have been required, but not a dismissal.  
  
A light frown creased his brow. What had happened to his normal way of thinking? Maybe a month ago, he might've demanded Gohan do something worse, even putting the saiyajin to death. But now? He didn't think that taking Vegeta away from his duty was a good idea. It didn't seem fair. And since when did Goten give a damn about what was fair?  
  
'Since you got your ass handed to you,' a little voice inside him chided. The young demi-saiyajin closed his eyes. It was true, wasn't it? That Piccolo just crawled beneath his skin, hadn't he? What was the power that man had? And apparently it affected Gohan too, in some way. Only... Goten knew Gohan hadn't had a single conversation with the green man. 'Ashamed to admit how you know that, huh?' the little voice asked.  
  
'Shut up,' he told the voice.  
  
'Oh, come on, Goten,' it chuckled. 'Tell your brother how you spend the majority of your days.'  
  
'Shut up.'  
  
'You know you can't win, don't you?' it sneered. 'He's the golden heir. He's the one everyone adores. Not you. Never you. You'll never be good enough. Why even bother trying?'  
  
"Shut up!" Goten screamed aloud, slamming his fist down on the table, shattering the wine glass he'd been holding.  
  
"What the fuck are you talking about, Goten?!" Gohan shouted. "I haven't said a word in five minutes!"  
  
Goten stood abruptly from the table. "I apologize, Gohan. I'm -- I'm not feeling well. Excuse me."  
  
Gohan watched his brother quickly stride from the room, practically running. He popped a grape into his mouth, his eyes never straying from the younger demi-saiyajin.  
  
"Freak," he muttered.  
  
What was Goten's problem, anyway? Lately, the normally reclusive demi- saiyajin seemed more withdrawn than usual, more distracted. He rarely saw him except at meal times, and even then, he'd always leave quickly, making some lame excuse. Like tonight. Every once in a while, Goten reminded Gohan of their mother in her earlier descent into madness. Gods, he hoped his sibling wasn't headed down that path as well. It would ruin a perfectly good Inquisitor.  
  
He liked his brother, he really did, but there were some times that the littlest demi-saiyajin worried him. Like when he acted like their mother. He didn't think that Goten would crack under the pressure, whatever pressure it was he felt, but there was always that chance that he could. And if that happened, well, rabid animals had to be put down. "Heh. Too bad mother can't be put to sleep as easily... or quietly."  
  
He turned back to the still large banquet in front of him. He didn't have to tell his little brother the truth, or at least, the truth as he saw it. Though, he wanted to. Who else would listen to him? Well, actually, if he wanted people to listen to him, he'd only have to snap his fingers. But they'd only tell him what they thought he wanted to hear. Goten was different. He was secretive, and apparently going quite mad, but he was also smart. And that's what was interesting about talking with him. He'd know why Vegeta didn't mind being made a fool of by the humans. 'Why does he allow the humans to handle his battles, and to offer him blankets, when he gets a stiff tail every time I offer him my bed?' It was a puzzle, but one that wasn't pressingly urgent to solve. It didn't really matter anyway.  
  
The only real mystery that needed to be solved, and solved soon, was Piccolo. The oldest prince grabbed a dark green fruit and tossed it in his hands. Smiling, his thoughts turned from what it felt like to take something by force, to what it was going to feel like to have someone beg to take him.  
  
***  
  
Trunks knelt in the half-light of the secret entrance to his mother's room. He listened in on the sounds of Zarbon making sure that there were no possibilities of being overheard. No one was, of course, so Trunks crept all the way into the room, dashed onto his mother's bed, and curled up under her covers, his form huddled though his tail poked out from underneath the blankets to curl up behind him.  
  
"Hello, my son," Bulma said as she went over to wrap her arms around her only child. "How fairs you?"  
  
"I'm doing well, mother," Trunks replied as he leaned his shrouded form against her slight body. "And how are you?"  
  
"I am doing very well now that Lord Kakarrot is not here to demand my attention," Bulma replied. "Tell me, what news do you have? Is there anything of interest occurring out there?"  
  
"Well, it seems that of the latest batch of fighters to arrive, many of them are not going to make it to the trial round. Prince Gohan is systematically eliminating a vast number of them. Today he has already injured eight, with intimidation tactics directed towards four more. Prince Goten is acting strangely, but still managing to perform his duties. The trio from Betamore actually ARE hermaphrodites," Trunks said as he recounted all the things he had discovered during the day. "Anyway, that's all the normal news of the palace."  
  
"As opposed to the not so normal news?" Bulma asked with a quirked eyebrow.  
  
"Yeah. The three strangers... they aren't normal. I don't know how or why they act like they do, but I do know that they aren't normal." Trunks grinned at her. With a sixth sense born of a lifetime spent dodging other people, Trunks was acutely aware of where Zarbon was in the room. He didn't know how his mother could feel safe with the large guard, but she often said that she preferred his company to most other people's. Trunks thought that she really needed someone like 17, who was the best guard there was. Well, HE thought that 17 was the best. "It seems that Prince Gohan doesn't like the idea of Vegeta guarding Yamcha, and has confined my sire to his quarters. Captain Ginyu is now reassigned as Yamcha's guard."  
  
"How is that going over?" Bulma asked as she reached her hand into the darkness of the blanket to wrap her arm around her son's figure. She pulled him down so that she could run her free hand through his hair. It was almost as long as hers was.  
  
"Not very well," Trunks replied. He loved it when his mom played with his hair. It was very soothing. Her nails almost tickled him as they scraped lightly over his scalp. "Piccolo has ordered Yamcha not to leave his room. The short man, Krillin, isn't happy about this change of guard either. He was thinking about trying to protest, but the other two told him that it was pointless. They know the only person who could overrule Prince Gohan's decision is Lord Kakarrot, or if Prince Gohan changes his mind, then Vegeta might be reinstated."  
  
"Piccolo seems rather intelligent. They can't do anything about the situation right now, so why cause trouble? What was this Yamcha's reaction?"  
  
"He HATES the idea of someone other than Vegeta being his guard."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yeah. He's so agitated by it, I caught him performing a strange kata in his room, the bed pushed up against the wall. He is seriously pissed off about this," Trunks stated as he brushed his mother's hands away. He sat up and looked at the lovely lady in front of him and felt a deep swell of affection. "He seems to think that it's his fault. But he swears he was only trying to be nice. I tried telling Piccolo that no one here thinks nice is a good thing, but Piccolo merely acknowledges what I say and then tells me that it is not their way to be rude."  
  
"You sound like you have a lot of respect for this Piccolo character," Zarbon interjected.  
  
Trunks blinked at the guard. Usually Zarbon made it a point not to take notice of him when he was there, going out of his way to ignore him. "Well, I do. A couple of weeks ago, right around the time that Lord Kakarrot was deciding that he wanted to go on a vacation, Prince Goten caught me in the hallway. Piccolo saved me from being hurt. Again. You know, I don't understand why Goten doesn't just rape me like the rest of them do. I mean, why does he have to go out of his way to torture me in a different fashion, and in such a manner as it just causes severe pain and not death?"  
  
"Perhaps because the more times you brush against death, the stronger you grow," Bulma answered softly. She hated to hear her son talk of his life, of his repeated rapes so nonchalantly. She should have heard anger, rage, or something in his voice, other than the sickening curiosity for why it didn't happen. She thought back to her people's folly in thinking that if they killed the maturing invader, then they would not have to worry. She thought about all the times that the news reported him retreating away from a battle, mortally wounded. They should have made sure he died. They should have hunted him down. They should have... done so many things differently. But they didn't. "Trunks-kun, I'm sorry that I can't protect you."  
  
"Don't worry, mom," Trunks said as he smiled sweetly at her. "Prince Goten hasn't bothered me since. I told you he was acting funny. And I've been staying out of trouble, sleeping in 17's bed, or keeping to the shadow- ways."  
  
"If you say so," Bulma responded, forcing a smile to her lips. "So, tell me, what's Goten's reaction to this?"  
  
"I don't know," Trunks shrugged. His tail flipped behind him. "I do know that Vegeta is not happy with the new restrictions. He's raged silently for most of the day. He's been doing as many rigorous exercises as he can in his room. The place reeks of him and his sweat."  
  
Zarbon smirked smugly to himself as he ducked his head. So Vegeta was taken away from his prized human? How appropriate. And could he give himself away more? He's obviously upset at the loss. As is the human. A light frown creased his blue brow. Unrequited love was such a tricky thing. But it appeared more and more as if it were not unrequited, just silent. As silent as his and his Mistress's.  
  
"So, both Vegeta and Yamcha are against this new change," Bulma commented as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I am surprised that Goten hasn't noticed this. He's usually very observant."  
  
"May I inquire, Mistress Bulma, as to why you are so curious of Prince Goten's thoughts?" Zarbon asked quietly, interrupting again.  
  
"Because," Bulma began as she climbed off the bed and started pacing, "I can't help but think that something that effects him might effect the rest of us. He's powerful, Zarbon. You and I and Trunks all know that, and what effects the powerful usually effects the weaker more severely. He usually is kept busy with office affairs, but since the travelers came... I don't know. I feel as if there is a piece, a very important piece, of a puzzle missing. We need to find that, and then perhaps we'll find out what the picture of the puzzle is."  
  
"I don't think I understand, Mistress," Zarbon stated. "Prince Goten has no bearing on what happens to you specifically. Trunks, yes, but not you."  
  
"You heard Trunks. Goten has been acting very oddly. Think of ripples in the water, Zarbon. The ripples could effect us." She turned to her son. "How has he been acting? Specifically, Trunks. Can you think of anything?"  
  
"He's left me alone mostly," Trunks said as he tilted his head to the side, obviously recalling most of the incidents in the past weeks. "As for how he's been acting, he's a bit more subdued since that incident with Piccolo. Maybe something happened that I don't know about. Piccolo must have spoken to him." Trunks looked wistful for a moment, as if trying to situate the days afterwards in his head. "I'd say that maybe Piccolo scared him or something. Though, truth to tell, he's been following Piccolo a great deal more than anyone else, including me. It isn't stalking, either. That's more Gohan's style than Goten's, you know. Goten is just following him, watching him. Spying."  
  
"Well, Prince Goten IS the Royal Inquisitor. Spying, checking out threats is part of that," Zarbon intoned softly, worried. He didn't like the idea that his Mistress was concerning herself with so much happening outside of her room. She did this when she grew bored, and it usually ended up badly. For her.  
  
"No, not that kind of spying. When he is checking out threats, he is usually prone to write notes. He isn't taking any notes when he watches Piccolo," Trunks said. "He's just... watching."  
  
'Watching,' the blue-haired lady thought. 'What makes someone just 'watch' someone else?' Tumbling that thought over and over in her mind, a single answer slowly came to the forefront. Bulma frowned. No, that couldn't be it, could it? Surely that was too simple, too easy. And yet... Her pacing came to a halt, and she once again rested beside her son on the bed, stroking his hair lightly. She had that idea -- that single idea -- but how could she find out without directly asking? Oh, how her mind got her into trouble sometimes. She'd have to start with something vague, she decided. "Trunks, love, tell me something," she spoke softly. "What does Piccolo look like?"  
  
Trunks grinned as his mother resettled herself next to him. "Well, he's tall. Very tall. And green. I've never met anyone as green as him. He looks to be about as deep green as the leaves on the flowers that Zarbon gives you. He has pointed hears, fangs, and sharp claws on his fingers. He wears a white hat and cape and an indigo gi with a blue sash. He looks very intimidating, but he's actually very, very nice. His voice is this rich, deep, rolling sound that'll send shivers up your spine until you're used to it. And once you are, then it's very calming, like listening to distant thunder when you know you're safe. He's strong, self assured, and very... commanding. But not cruel at all. He's just... very different."  
  
"That's very detailed, Trunks," Bulma smile. "Sounds like somebody's got a crush."  
  
"No, not anything like that!" Trunks clarified passionately. "He's nice and all, but... No."  
  
"Oh?" Bulma giggled, one eyebrow upraised. She saw him flush, but she relented. He was so secretive when it came to matters of the heart, as if by admitting to finding anyone even remotely attractive then that would give them more power over him. "He doesn't sound all that attractive to me. Green, you say. With claws and fangs?"  
  
"Yes. But he is rather attractive, if you go for that sort of thing. He's very frightening upon first meeting, though. Very scary," Trunks said, his tail going to wrap around him. "He's strong, Mother. Very strong. And I think that's part of what makes him so intimidating. But he knows his power, and he knows how to use it."  
  
"You've seen him fight?" Zarbon queried. To his knowledge, the guests had been like pacifists: no sparring or training of any kind. This was all, of course, according to palace rumor.  
  
The lavender-haired youth shook his head. "No. No one has. He gets a lot done with very little effort, I think. He uses his mind a lot. And he meditates. Once you get to know him, he's not that bad of a guy."  
  
"If you say so, Trunks-kun. I still don't think he's all that attractive," Bulma said.  
  
They all remained quiet for a few minutes. Bulma was still bent on figuring out what was going on with Goten. The youngest demi-saiyajin had always been a little different from the rest, though not technically in a good way, and if he acting abnormally, she wanted to hear about it. Especially if her suspicions were even remotely close to the truth. Sighing she resigned to ask a favor or her son. Bulma fretted a bit over giving her son such a dangerous assignment, but she couldn't undertake the task herself, and in all earnestness, no one was really as well equipped for the task as he was. "Trunks," she addressed, "I want you to keep an eye out for Goten. When he crosses your path, follow him. Find out what he's up to. But, in the meantime, I want you to keep a close eye on the three travelers. Will you do that?"  
  
"I will." Trunks sighed with relief, praying that he wouldn't have to follow Goten long enough to get caught at it. That would be very painful, and possibly lethal. "I think I'm becoming their friend. Just like you had friends when you were younger, I think they might be my friends. I'm also going to try and help Yamcha see Vegeta. I think it'd make the human happy, you know."  
  
"If you think so, Trunks," Bulma said, brushing long, lavender locks away from a dirty face. "If you think that it will, then do it."  
  
The large clock on the wall chimed the late hour, and Trunks hopped up from the bed. Bending over slightly, he kissed his mother on her cheek. "I'm going to go to 17's room now, Mother," he told her. "He should be on his break soon."  
  
She gave him a warm hug and patted his back. "Take care of yourself, Trunks. I'll see you later, okay?"  
  
Trunks gave his mom a reassuring kiss on the cheek before he vanished into the shadows from which he emerged. He knew the pathway between his mother's room and 17's better than he knew his own reflection in mirrors. Soon, the guards would be relieved for a break. He moved silently, but hurriedly. The raven-haired guard only had a short amount of time to shower and return to his station.  
  
Trunks arrived in the room just as the door closed behind 17. He grinned with relief to see the android was alone, but then he usually was. "Hi, 17."  
  
"Visiting your mother?" the guard asked easily, stripping out of his clothes even as he moved. He was conscious of Trunks' eyes on him, and he was glad he had his back to the demi-Saiyajin. Just thinking of Trunks watching him as he showered made him want to shiver with pleasure, but he held it in check.  
  
"Yes. She sends her regards," Trunks said as he watched the black shirt fall to the floor. His mouth suddenly went dry. He kept his eyes focused on the material on the floor instead of the bare expanse of 17's back. He knew that if he looked up, he'd forget everything on his mind. He didn't understand why he did that, it just happened. And if 17 turned around to him, he'd start babbling, and then it'd be all over. He'd be embarrassed and afraid and... No. He couldn't let that happen.  
  
Swiftly, he settled into putting his mind far from the disrobed figure near him and thought about other things he knew would take his mind off the android. His mother's request rang out in his head. '... follow Goten...' Trunks knew that 17 was the very best of all the palace guards, and not just in his opinion; the black-headed male was, after all, the right-hand guard of Lord Kakarrot. Perhaps 17 might have some insight into the younger prince. "You know," he began, "there's something I've been wanting to ask you, but... I'm not sure if you can answer it."  
  
When the android just stood there with an expectant look on his face, Trunks continued. "That day... that day when Goten had me in the hallway... Do you remember that day?"  
  
17 gave a small, sharp nod. He recalled that day with frightening clarity. The way he and Piccolo had found them he was certain Goten had done irreparable damage. They were so lucky to have stumbled upon them in time. Before something -really- bad had occurred.  
  
"Did something happen? Between Piccolo and Goten, I mean," he clarified. "Goten hasn't come near me since."  
  
"To my knowledge, nothing occurred that would have resulted in Piccolo being brought out to the arena and killed, seeing as he is still alive," 17 replied, thinking aloud. "But, he has been following us a bit closer than normal. He pays a great deal of attention to Piccolo. I believe that he feels threatened by the green man. It's his job to be somewhat paranoid."  
  
"So, it's just paranoia?"  
  
"What else could it be?" the android returned.  
  
Trunks shrugged. Maybe it was best if he changed the subject, got on to his idea. "Um, so, what do you think of the new guard watching over Yamcha?"  
  
"I do not like him. I never have," 17 called out as he turned on the shower water. "Captain Ginyu is an idiot."  
  
"Yeah, I know that. But what do you think of him as a guard? Do you think he'd notice anything unusual going on in Yamcha's room if it was quiet?" Trunks asked, standing in the doorway of the shower room, his tail wrapped tightly around his waist, and doing his best to avoid looking directly at the blurred form behind the shower screen.  
  
"How do you mean?" 17 questioned, as he soaped himself over, ever mindful of the other presence in the room. He inhaled the soap smell, grinning at the scent of lavender. He had chosen this scent as his a long time ago. He likened it to Trunks.  
  
"Well, I know that if you were guarding someone, and they stayed in their room for over a day, and they were quiet for that time, you'd go in and investigate. Would Ginyu?"  
  
"It depends," 17 said after he thought a moment. He rinsed off his body, and shampooed his hair again. He wanted to stay in the shower as long as possible, and it wasn't because he needed to. He liked the idea of Trunks watching him. He didn't do it often, so when the opportunity to show off in front of the younger male did arise, 17 was all for seizing the opportunity. He sighed as he dipped his head under the spray again. Too bad it was only posing. He doubted Trunks would ever be willing. Not after the life he had led. The android removed himself from the water and shook out his hair even as he turned off the water. "Ginyu is an idiot, true, but after two days, I believe even he would become suspicious. He would go in to make sure that the human did not do anything foolish, such as hang himself. Or attempt escape."  
  
"Hmm," Trunks sounded as he quickly turned away from the nude male. He flushed scarlet, his tail twisting around him tighter to try and still the jumping he felt in his stomach. "What if Yamcha made an appearance during the daylight hours, but was totally silent through the night?"  
  
"Well, that would actually be consistent with what their routine is," 17 replied as he dried himself off, his eyes averted from the other's form as Trunks rested with his back turned and resting against the doorway. "They sleep at night."  
  
"Yeah. That's true," the demi-saiyajin acknowledged. He practically jumped out of his skin when he felt 17's light tap on his shoulder.  
  
"Can you hand me some more clothes?" 17 requested with a light smirk.  
  
Trunks looked down to see only a small towel wrapped around the android's middle. He nearly fell in his haste to do as the other asked. "Here ya go."  
  
"Thank you," 17 smiled as he turned to retreat into the bathroom. He knew Trunks well enough to know his fear of nudity. "What are you planning, Trunks?"  
  
"Me? Planning something?" Trunks squeaked.  
  
"Did you hear that?" 17 asked as he poked his head out of the bathroom to look around the room. "I thought I heard a mouse..."  
  
The android was rewarded for his humor with his discarded shirt tossed at his face. Trunks flushed deeply as 17 laughed at him. The demi-saiyajin's purple tail tightened its hold even more, which normally would have seemed impossible, at the spine-tingling sound.  
  
"Seriously, Trunks. What are you planning?" 17smiled.  
  
"Well," Trunks sighed. "I thought that maybe, late at night, I might be able to sneak Yamcha out of his room to go see Vegeta."  
  
The synthetic male paused for a moment, going as still as a statue, which he was actually quite capable of doing. He thought a moment, and then slowly nodded his head. "I think that might prove... entertaining."  
  
"You approve?" Trunks asked excitedly.  
  
"Yes. For now. But keep it a secret, okay? We don't want word getting out," 17 said as his mind raced with possibilities, mostly problems that would involve the lavender haired youth to get into trouble. "We don't want any trouble."  
  
"Are you going to help?" Trunks asked, careful to keep his voice neutral.  
  
"No. This is your thing. I'm a guard. That's my thing. I'll let you do your thing, though. And I won't interfere," 17 said as he tucked in his shirt. His mind betrayed his cool statement, continuing the thought. If he could at all help it, he wasn't going to let anything happen to Trunks. He'd spent so long letting everything happen to him, and none of it was good. How much longer would he be able to just let it slide? He checked the clock. He still had about five minutes. What to do to pass the time? Well, usually he would watch as Trunks slept, curled up and twisted in HIS sheets, wishing with everything that even remotely might have been his soul that he was entangled in those same sheets, while at the same time glad that he didn't have to go through that torture.  
  
"Okay," Trunks whispered, his tail finally loosening somewhat. "Well, I hope you have a good day today. I know I'll see you later. I'm looking forward to visiting with Piccolo again, so... until then?"  
  
"Yes," 17 responded, irrationally jealous of the budding friendship between the strange green warrior and the Palace Ghost. He knew it was because Trunks had always been HIS and was now beginning to form new friendships, but he didn't have to feel the way he did. He sighed in frustration, wishing that he could just simply walk over to the other male and gave him a quick kiss on the top of his down turned head. "Until then."  
  
Trunks looked up, startled, but 17 was already walking out the door. A light frown washed over his thin face. 'We still had five more minutes left...' 


	6. Surprise

Disclaimer: My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prep--oh, wait. Heh. Wrong statement. Um, so, I, Deani, nor my esteemed colleague, Summer, have any rights to this sh--er, wonderful anime known as Dragonball Z. Ain't that a bitch, huh? Anyhow... READ THIS! It's not crap, I swear! And tell us you're reading it because I am seriously doubting that anyone's reading this and enjoying it. I just wanna know. Drop one of us a line just saying, "Hey, bitch, I'm reading it." Seriously. That'll suffice.  
  
Warning: Yaoi. And... well, that's pretty much it. I'm sure I could think of some other things to warn you about, but I'm not trying to waste any more time being a jackass.  
  
Kingdom Come ~ Chapter 6  
  
It had taken him a week to design a safe pathway. But it was a week well spent in Trunks' opinion. He sighed as he waited on the connectors of Yamcha's roofing tiles. Soon. He grinned to himself, proud of his silent work. No one knew.  
  
His own father didn't know that the path had been cleared, and that he would soon be having a visitor. Of course, that was Yamcha's idea. He wanted it to be a surprise.  
  
When Trunks thought it was safe, he removed a ceiling tile. They were heavier than one might first imagine, but he managed it with muffled sounds. He peeked his head down. Yamcha was already waiting for him. With a wink and a smile, the human jumped up and entered the shadow ways.  
  
Outside, the three guards were waiting for their relief to come. 17 heard the light sounds coming from Yamcha's room, but acted as if he didn't. 18 saw her brother's indifference, and knew that the human was too weak to be of any concern to her, so she ignored the sound as well. Captain Ginyu, unsure of his station and the reason he had to be there, looked at the door, but then simply returned to his silent position. If the androids didn't make a scene of it, then what he heard was probably normal.  
  
Piccolo was acutely aware of every movement the pair made as they traversed through the ceiling above him. Normal ears or even fairly sensitive ears wouldn't have been able to hear them, but the two pointed auricles on either side of his head made sensitive hearing seem average. Trunks had explained to him earlier that week, a day or two after Vegeta had been replaced, his plans to allow Yamcha to see the saiyajin, and while Piccolo didn't approve of the unnecessary risk, he wasn't going to stop them. He knew the human was unhappy without his guard. And he understood that misery very well. After all, he'd been living for years without his Gohan.  
  
The tall being stretched out on his bed. He didn't really require sleep himself, but he thought he may as well partake in it to some extent. Plus, it gave him an excuse to get out of his clothes for longer than just a bath. He still left on his gi pants while he slept, however. Crossing his arms behind his head, he stared at the ceiling, noting that Trunks and Yamcha had very quickly moved almost outside of his hearing distance. Thoughts of this world drifted into his resting mind. What a strange and ridiculous reality this was turning out to be.  
  
***  
  
Vegeta continued his concentrated pushups in his room. Sweat dripped off the tip of his nose onto the cold metal floor. How many different exercises had he gone through today? He'd lost count in the early afternoon, and it was nearing midnight. He'd thought that the more active he kept himself, the less he'd think about the human and his new guard. Gods, how he hated Ginyu for taking over his position! He growled as the tall, purple warrior came into his mind and popped up off the floor, swiftly moving into shadow boxing.  
  
As his fists punched rapidly in the air against a nonexistent opponent, he tried desperately not to think of Yamcha, but the effort was futile. He couldn't help wondering if Yamcha had taken it all into stride, becoming friends with his new guard. What was he doing now? Was he happier now without him around? Did it even matter to him that Vegeta had been dismissed?  
  
This was what he got for being attracted to the scarred warrior, he supposed. Why did Yamcha and his companions even have to come here? He knew they didn't do it on purpose, but still. If they'd never come here, he would've never had to know the pain of being separated from something he had begun to hold closer to his heart than anything else. But if he'd never met Yamcha... No, that would've been worse.  
  
He missed him. His smile, his eyes, his voice. To think, he'd wanted nothing more than to be replaced in the beginning, to be spared the humiliation of guarding a mere human. But now that he had been relieved of duty, all he wanted was to get back to him. He wanted to guard him. Gods, he wanted so much more than that. But he'd settle for just guarding him, even if that's all he was allowed. Just... anything. As long as he could spend more time with Yamcha.  
  
The furious shadow boxing turned into slightly more, kicks intermingling with the jabs. Why? Why was this happening to him? He'd gotten so good at ignoring his wretched lot in life, so apt at burying his emotions until he'd thought they'd vanished for good. But along comes this beautiful, kind soul, undoing decades of hard work in a couple of months. "Unacceptable!" Vegeta shouted to no one.  
  
He didn't worry about someone hearing him talk to himself. He could do whatever he wanted, be as loud as he wanted. None of the other palace inhabitants had a room anywhere near his; he was situated in the smallest room at the end of a long corridor. In reality, it was just shy of a segregated prison cell, a continual reminder of his near-captivity. And now, he was more like a prisoner than ever, having been confined to his room with the door locked from the outside. Food was delivered to him a few times a day by robots, but otherwise, that door did not open. There was no escape.  
  
His quick feet danced him towards the door as he fought his absent adversary. How he wished he could break that door down. But it was very reinforced, as was his entire room. He didn't even have a normal ceiling. It was solid. This truly was a cell.  
  
His eyes focused on the door again. He couldn't break the door, but he could certainly punch at it, though. Sure, his hands might break before it did, but then again, maybe that pain might take his mind off the other pain he felt. Just as he took his first swing at the solid metal entrance, his fist came into contact with something far softer and more pliable. He jumped back, shocked.  
  
There, before him, Yamcha was sprawled out in the open doorway. The human rubbed at his scarred cheek. "Ow, shit," he muttered.  
  
In the hallway, Trunks was crouched over, pushing the dark-haired fighter into the room. The moment Yamcha's backside had been beyond the door's parameters, the svelte demi-saiyajin pressed a few buttons on the panel on the outside wall, effectively shutting and locking the door as it had been when they'd found it. He raced back to the end of the shadow ways where they'd exited to get to Vegeta's room. He hadn't had time to be concerned with the fact that Vegeta had punched Yamcha, though now he wondered. Would Yamcha be okay? Did Vegeta know how to care for injuries? The lavender- haired youth shook his head as he crawled through the walls. He knew his sire had been injured many times in the past. Surely he could take care of Yamcha.  
  
Yamcha picked himself off the floor, touching his cheek, pretty sure that it wouldn't even bruise. He'd been caught off-guard is all. He smirked a little at the saiyajin. "Do you always greet visitors by punching them?" he queried.  
  
Vegeta stood motionless, his eyes fixed on Yamcha. Was this a trick? Was his mind so far gone that it had created this illusion to prove it? He blinked hard then, slightly shaking his head as if to clear it. The human was still there. "I'm delusional," he answered finally. "You're not real."  
  
For that statement, he received a hard poke in the chest. "How's that for real?"  
  
In return, Vegeta jabbed a finger at Yamcha's chest. "Real enough." His eyes roamed over the taller male. The yellow suit had been exchanged for a fighting gi similar to that of his green companion, except that it was dark green with an orange sash. "You changed your clothes," he commented.  
  
"Yeah," Yamcha smiled. "Piccolo has this neat way of creating clothing out of nothing. I don't know exactly how he does it, but it comes in handy from time to time. Especially if you don't have anything else to wear. The same thing every day gets a little boring for me."  
  
What a strange ability. Making clothes? Was that a sign of the greatness of the green man's power? Or was that just really, really weird? Oh, well. Piccolo did good work. Yamcha wore the gi well. "You look...," Vegeta trailed off. "Nice."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
The saiyajin took a few steps back and grabbed a towel. He was suddenly very conscious of his sweat-drenched body and the fact that he was only wearing a pair of tight black shorts. Wiping himself off, he asked, "What are you doing here?" It sounded far colder than he'd intended it to sound.  
  
Yamcha held his breath as a lump formed in his throat. Vegeta didn't sound like he was pleased to see him at all. He'd thought they were becoming friends. Was he wrong? "I--I wanted to see you," came the reply. He turned away, facing the door. "I thought you might want to see me. I guess I messed up. This was a mistake. I shouldn't have come here."  
  
"No." Vegeta cursed himself inwardly. Yamcha wanted to see him, and this is how he treated him? What was he thinking?! The shorter male reached out to him, but his hand faltered just before it touched the other man. His arm dropped to his side. "It wasn't a mistake. I'm... glad you're here. I do want to see you."  
  
Before either of them knew what was happening, Yamcha had his arms wrapped around the short saiyajin in a tight hug. He was so happy that he hadn't been wrong. "Good," he said.  
  
They stood there in the embrace for just slightly longer than they probably should have. The smaller man relished the first real contact he had with the human. To touch him, even in this mostly innocent way, was more than he could have asked for. When Yamcha pulled back, he found himself terribly missing the contact. But at least then he could see the face, the smile, the eyes, of the scarred fighter. Being able to see him was enough.  
  
Other thoughts began to sift into his head besides having this welcome visitor. "How did you get here? I doubt Captain Ginyu just let you leave your room in the middle of the night to wander around by yourself."  
  
A snicker met his ears. "That guy's an idiot." Yamcha walked over to Vegeta's bed and sat down. "Trunks helped me find a way to get here without being seen."  
  
"So no one knows you're here except Trunks."  
  
"Right. Oh, and Piccolo and Krillin. But that's it."  
  
"I see."  
  
"So, um," Yamcha began as his eyes took in the tiny room. He'd die in a room like this. He wasn't claustrophobic, but he would be in here. How did Vegeta stand this? "What have you been doing this whole time?"  
  
"Training." The saiyajin couldn't help but let the sarcasm tinge his response. This was hardly an area for training, but he did what he could. Plus, it wasn't like he could do anything else, seeing as how he was locked in there. "What have -you- been doing?"  
  
"The same," he replied. "I've pretty much just stayed in my room since they replaced you. I don't want to walk around with Ginyu. Krillin has been bringing me food, and -- gross as this sounds -- I hadn't bathed until today, since I knew I was going to see you." The human leaned back on one arm and smiled again. "You know, he didn't stay in the bathing garden while I bathed like you would. He just stayed by the door. Which was good, you know, because he's like the last person I'd want to see me naked."  
  
Vegeta wrung the towel in his hands, trying not to let his eyes stray from the motion. On one hand, it pleased him to know that he hadn't wanted Ginyu to see him naked and that the guard hadn't seen him. On the other hand, just hearing him talk about being naked gave his body a stir. When he looked back up, he still saw that warm smile Yamcha almost always seemed to wear.  
  
"So. What would you like to do?" Yamcha inquired.  
  
"What do you mean?" Vegeta was having trouble concentrating. Yamcha was in -his- room, and he wanted to be there. Once he'd allowed himself to look at the human again, he looked him over completely. The saiyajin hadn't been lying when he said that Yamcha looked nice. He did. Of course, the more he thought about it, the more Vegeta thought the human would look even better without the clothes. Without anything on except a bedroom sheet. -His- bedroom sheet. Vegeta shivered, trying to rid his mind of such... distracting thoughts.  
  
"Well, I can't leave until Trunks comes to let me out. So you're stuck with me for at least a few hours." The taller male cocked his head to the side. "What do you want to do until then?" The saiyajin just stared blankly at him. It became clear to Yamcha that maybe Vegeta thought he would only be there for a few minutes, not hours. "Um, is that okay? Me staying that long? I mean, I didn't really think about it before, and it's kind too late to be worrying about it now, but... Is this okay?"  
  
"Hm?" Vegeta shrugged. He didn't mind. He liked having Yamcha here. He still couldn't believe he'd come to see him. Just to see him. It was just unfathomable that he'd gone through the trouble to do that. "I don't have any cards."  
  
"You play cards?" Yamcha asked, surprised. He had never figured Vegeta for the kind to sit down for a game of poker.  
  
"A little. I learned," Vegeta replied, keeping the towel in his hands. If he didn't, he knew he would go over and rip off Yamcha's new clothes. He wasn't sure, but he didn't think that would be a good idea. The saiyajin tried to get a hold of himself, tried to curb the natural inclination to just go over there and lay next to the human, but it was taking more effort and will than he really had. He knew, though, that he couldn't make a fool of himself. He had to remain in control, or how else would Yamcha respect him?  
  
"Wow. That's... huh. So, what else do you do when you're bored?" Yamcha asked, his eyes giving Vegeta his full attention.  
  
For his efforts, Vegeta stood as tall as he could, his tail curling up behind him. He sat on the edge of the bed, his back somewhat to his companion. He tried to think of what he did when he was off duty. "Well, when I'm allowed, I like to go to a large lake that's about two hundred kilometers to the south. And I like to swim. I like it there because the water is always warm, no matter what time of year it is. I like to read. There's a few old earth libraries still standing, though it has taken me a while to learn the languages."  
  
"Sounds very lonely," Yamcha said softly. He stretched out onto his stomach, resting his head upon his folded arms. "I don't think I'd survive like that. I couldn't bear the silence."  
  
Vegeta smirked, though he wasn't looking at Yamcha. He was looking at something in the far distance. "Yeah. The silence sucks. So..."  
  
"So?" Yamcha encouraged. "So, what do you do?"  
  
"Sometimes I sing," Vegeta answered softly, a light blush dancing over his features. He couldn't believe he just admitted that. No one knew that. NO ONE! How could he have just said that to the one person he had been trying to impress?  
  
"You sing?" Yamcha asked, his voice containing a world's worth of shock and curiosity. Grinning wide, he began to beg, "I want to hear! Please! Please, just one song."  
  
"No." Vegeta shook his head adamantly, getting up off the bed and beginning to back away from the human on his bed. The same human who looked good lying there on his bed. The same human who was begging for something from him while lying on his bed.  
  
Vegeta looked at the ground, at the walls, anywhere and everywhere except at his bed where Yamcha was looking at him, begging him. Finally, his face a contradiction of scowl and blush, he glared at the human. "Fine, I'll sing for you. But what are you going to do for me?"  
  
"Me?" Yamcha asked, his smile still in place. He had won the song, after all. "I dunno. What do you want me to do? I can't sing. I don't dance. In fact, I'm not very good at anything. Well, there's baseball, but that doesn't count as that's a team sport and requires a LOT of room."  
  
Vegeta couldn't control the all-body shiver that coursed through him. There were a lot of things he knew he wanted Yamcha to do, but he didn't think that the human would agree that the songs warranted them. It would be like trying to buy the royal crown with the money it takes to buy a couple loaves of bread. He tilted his head to the side, noticing the way Yamcha covered his mouth with his hand as he yawned. That would have to do.  
  
"Um," Yamcha said after he finished his yawn, slightly embarrassed. He hoped he didn't fall asleep. That would ruin everything. "Well..."  
  
"After I sing, you have to be willing to go to sleep with me," Vegeta stated softly.  
  
"Huh?" Yamcha sounded, startled wide-awake. He couldn't have heard that correctly. Could he?  
  
Vegeta shrugged. He looked down at the floor. "I only know lullabies. And since you're already tired, as am I, and I know there's room on the bed for both of us, it only makes sense to share the bed until Trunks returns."  
  
"Ohh." Yamcha smiled and nodded his head, though he wasn't sure that Vegeta saw him as something on the floor had the saiyajin's attention completely. "Sure. I'll sleep in your bed with you."  
  
Vegeta looked up, a small, grateful smile on his face. He nodded his head and climbed onto the other side of the bed. Yamcha straightened himself out, tossing off his shoes and climbing under the thin covers.  
  
With that, Vegeta began to sing. His voice was low, soothing, soft. Very mellow. It had a slight lilt to it, as if it were supposed to be accented, but seeing as how Yamcha didn't understand a word of it, he wasn't sure. Yamcha watched as the shorter male smiled while he sang, tilting his head to one side as if listening to someone else's voice from long ago. Dark eyes were closed with soft memories. Yamcha wasn't sure, but he thought that was as close to rapturous as he'd ever seen Vegeta get.  
  
He was already beautiful in a very masculine way, but in that one moment, he was stunning. The sound of his voice, combined with his expression, left Yamcha longing, not wanting or lusting, but longing for the other male.  
  
The lullaby ended, and Yamcha laid on his side, gazing in awe at the saiyajin prince. Vegeta turned his head to the side to look at the silent man. "What?"  
  
"That was... wonderful," the man whispered. "I didn't know what you were saying, but it sounded lovely."  
  
Vegeta turned his head again and stared at the ceiling. "Hn. You're just saying that."  
  
Reaching his hand over, he lightly caught the smaller man's chin in his fingers and gently swiveled the regal face towards him. "I meant it. Really."  
  
Their faces couldn't have been more than six inches apart, probably less. The natural thing to do in a moment like this would have been to kiss, but both men were entirely too insecure about the other's feelings to do so. Instead, Yamcha let his hand fall to the pillow beside his face and smiled. "This is strange," he remarked.  
  
"What is?"  
  
"Sharing a bed with someone." He looked pensive for a moment before continuing. "I think I told you that once, didn't I? That I always slept alone."  
  
Vegeta nodded. "Yes. You told me that," he murmured.  
  
"It's just strange that I don't have to sleep alone tonight."  
  
Frowning slightly, the prince asked, "Is that strange in an unpleasant way?"  
  
"Not at all," Yamcha replied before stifling a yawn with his fist. "Better here than anywhere else." His eyelids started to droop a little, and unconsciously, he scooted closer to Vegeta under the covers. "Will you teach me one of your songs?" he requested.  
  
Vegeta raised his eyebrows. "Right now?"  
  
"No, not right now," Yamcha chuckled. "But some day in the future."  
  
"Perhaps." The saiyajin rolled onto his side to face the scarred male. "We will have to see."  
  
"Good enough for me," replied the human.  
  
Vegeta stayed nearly perfectly still until he heard Yamcha's breaths fall into the even pace of sleep. He moved to lie on his side to watch him sleep. In sleep, the scarred warrior looked so peaceful and innocent, like he'd never seen a battle, had never known pain, had never known loss. He wondered if he looked that way when he slept. Did everyone appear heavenly in repose?  
  
The human eventually flipped over onto his other side, his back fully facing the saiyajin. The smaller male took the opportunity to get a little cozier and aligned himself directly behind the other man, draping an arm over his waist. Yamcha snuggled backwards into his form, taking the hand near his stomach and holding it close to his chest. At first, Vegeta thought Yamcha had awakened, but upon checking, the human was still deeply asleep. The saiyajin accepted the gesture and nestled closely to him, burying his face into the other man's neck. He wasn't going to pretend this was more than it was, but at least it wasn't just a dream. Yamcha was really there in his bed, sleeping with Vegeta's arms around him. Thinking how lucky he was that this wasn't some reverie, he fell asleep. He'd never fallen asleep so quickly... nor so contentedly.  
  
***  
  
The door to the room slid open easily, quietly. Trunks peeked inside, and remained as silent as a shadow. He smiled as he looked at how his father clung to Yamcha, his tail wrapped around the human as if his very life depended upon it. Trunks was a bit embarrassed that he had waited so long before returning, but he had gotten carried away last night talking with Piccolo.  
  
He had taken to talking with Piccolo whenever he could, since the large warrior was always willing to discuss things. Things like how to stay hidden. How to use strategy. He also told great stories about places that were just too fantastic to be real. Like his home, where there was someone who looked just like him but was a super-saiyajin. Where there was nothing like the galactic empire. Yes, Piccolo told some amazing stories.  
  
Trunks hadn't made a sound, but Yamcha was already removing himself from the tangle of limbs that he and Vegeta made. He was flushing slightly, reluctant to remove himself from the warmth that was in the bed. But also, he had enjoyed the feel of the other man pressed up against his back for most of the night. He glanced over his shoulder, but Vegeta was still asleep. He nodded as the door shut behind him. "Lead on, Trunks."  
  
Trunks leaned into him a moment, taking a deep breath. "You smell like him."  
  
"Huh? Oh, well, yeah...," Yamcha grinned, not understanding.  
  
"You're going to have to make sure that you have another bath today, so that others won't be able to smell him on you. Captain Ginyu, 17, and 18 don't have the sense of smell that some of the others do, so you might make it to the bathing chambers without incident," Trunks whispered fiercely. "Otherwise, they'll catch us. And I don't know what they'd do to you, but I do know that they'd torture me, and then kill me. This could classify as being traitorous. After all, I'm showing you some of the most secret passages there are here."  
  
"I promise, Trunks, they won't catch me," Yamcha vowed. He crept after Trunks' retreating form, following the younger male into the shadows.  
  
Inside his room, Vegeta stirred awake. He knew it was too early to get out of bed. He knew that he didn't have anything to get out of bed for. It took him a few moments to realize what had awakened him. Over the years, his mockery of a life had left him hopeless. As a warrior, the side effect of hopelessness turned into a form of depression and suicidal tendencies that allowed him to sleep rather hard. He had slept through Yamcha's departure. Vegeta buried his face into the pillow, moaning and cursing in frustration. He clutched at the sheets where Yamcha had been sleeping; feeling the heat that remained even after the other man had left. Moving his head to eye the spot, Vegeta contemplated the rather silly notion of leaning over and trying to fall back asleep.  
  
In the end, that's exactly what he did. He moved his body, wrapping his tail around him defensively. He found the place where Yamcha had been sleeping, turning his face into the pillow. It smelled of the human. Strongly. And it was still warm from body heat. Vegeta whimpered softly. They had slept together. It had been... good. A bit torturous, as he was left alone in the morning after all night of holding the other, as if they were very close friends. Or as if they were more than friends. Gods, his body ached. He wanted to do it again.  
  
Only, without as much clothing on.  
  
Vegeta grinned into the pillow, continuing to inhale the other's scent. He feel asleep again, a small smile on his face, without bothering to take the edge off of his lust. He could wait. He'd done it before. He didn't want to rid the room of Yamcha's smell just yet by overpowering it with his own. He wanted to savor the remnants of his midnight visit.  
  
***  
  
Dawn washed over the outside landscape like water flowing over tile. Captain Ginyu looked up as Krillin left his room. The short human and 18 walked away without a word to him, which was just as well. 'That lady creeps me out.' Next out was Piccolo, whose dark shadow followed him easily away from the corridor. The large, horned guard snorted in displeasure. He was sure that Yamcha wasn't going to show up, AGAIN, and he'd have to spend his entire day standing out in the corridor like some idiot.  
  
So, it came as a great surprise when after Krillin brought the other human breakfast, they both decided it was time for another bath. Ginyu groaned, yet 18 remained as eerily silent as ever. She had a strange look on her face, though, as if something wasn't going according to her plans. The larger guard wasn't about to ask her what her damage was, though, as he knew the lovely android could wipe the floor with him if she even thought he was mocking her. Self-preservation was sometimes the best incentive for intelligence the galaxy ever provided anyone.  
  
The blond android was not happy. It had been nearly two months since Lord Kakarrot had decided to play his little joke on her and the Ginyu Force by allowing the humans to stay as honored guests, complete with personal guards. She wasn't thrilled at first, but she had thought that this little, weak, pathetic, emotional human would be of some entertainment value over the course of his stay. Perhaps by hitting on her, flirting with her. Perhaps, if she was bored enough, she might have even allowed him to become her lover. But as it was... Krillin hadn't made any kind of overtone that might even suggest actual interest. There was flirting, but one might guess that he flirted with almost everyone. She was beginning to think that he liked guys. After all, he spent all his time with his own sex. One could assume... Well, all in all, it was a rather depressing train of thought. Besides, how could she win if he didn't even want to play the game?  
  
Krillin and Yamcha strode out of the room casually. Krillin stopped, motioning 18 forward with a formal bow and sweep of his hand. The female gave a very unladylike grunt before taking the lead. Krillin and Yamcha followed her. Ginyu took up the rear, bored out of his mind and not paying the slightest bit of attention to his charge. After all, they were only weak humans. When they arrived at the guest bathing pool, they found 17 was there, leaning under a tree. Piccolo was already in the water, obviously finishing up his mediation. Ginyu stopped at the door, turning his back on the scene. If they had been females, the good captain would have naturally have watched, but as it was only a group of men, he did not feel so inclined.  
  
"Hey, Piccolo," Krillin and Yamcha greeted.  
  
Piccolo nodded his head as he leaned back in the heated pool. He didn't particularly care for the heat, but it was close at hand, and it allowed him the opportunity to talk with the others about their situation. Granted, there were eavesdroppers present, but he couldn't get around that. Not yet at least. "Krillin. Yamcha."  
  
"Water good?" Yamcha asked.  
  
"It is the same as it was yesterday," Piccolo replied. Then, with an evil smirk, he had to ask, "So, did you sleep well, Yamcha?"  
  
"Quite well, actually," he answered, the faintest of blushes creeping across his cheeks. "Best night of sleep I've had since we came here."  
  
Reaching the water's edge, Yamcha jumped right into the pool, not even bothering to strip. 18 snorted at the display and went to sit on a rock near her brother. 17, who couldn't smell the human at all, realized that the human's clothes must have reeked of his visit with his former guard. And that was, of course, not a good thing in the palace. 'So,' 17 decided with a smirk, 'Yamcha isn't as dumb as he seems. Good for him.'  
  
The dark-haired human popped his head out from underneath the water, but rose no more than that, and removed his clothing while submerged. He soaped up himself and his clothes while eyeing Piccolo warily. Did he know? Yamcha knew the other male knew he went to visit Vegeta the night before, but did he know how he felt? Could he have figured that out? Maybe. Probably. The human sighed as he continued to scrub himself and his clothes. How much cleaning did they require for Vegeta's smell to no longer linger on them? Maybe he'd just have Piccolo make him some more. Yeah. Maybe so. "Hey, Piccolo, do you mind if I ask for some new clothes?"  
  
"Do you want them now, or when you're out of the pool?" Piccolo asked dryly, softly chuckling at Yamcha's discomfort even as Krillin entered the pool, sans his clothing.  
  
"When it's time to go," Yamcha replied, a slight smile on his face.  
  
"Very well," Piccolo agreed. He looked at the positions of the guards, noticing that Ginyu was again ignoring his duties. The namek sighed in disgust. How the horned warrior had survived this long was anyone's guess. Pitching his voice low enough so as not to be heard, he glanced out of the corner of his eye to the two humans while scanning the area. "So, anything new?"  
  
"Not a damn thing," Krillin remarked. "Though, it's rather hard to explore the place with my blonde and bloodthirsty shadow."  
  
"Yes," Piccolo concurred. "We need to discover the whereabouts of the Mirror of Janus, and we need to discover it soon. It's our only way out of this place. I'm considering asking Trunks for information. He seems to be the most knowledgeable ally we have here. He's also our only ally, so far. Also, as the tournament is fast approaching, and we aren't making any headway in that area, I'm going to start visiting the practice arenas more. Might as well see their moves. I want to learn the rules of their fighting styles. They might be different."  
  
Yamcha and Krillin then began talking in hushed tones about whether or not they thought it would be wise for them to start sparring, or at least practicing in public. Piccolo was trying his best not to glare in the direction of a certain demi-saiyajin. He knew Goten was there, trying to hide away from him. It seemed that no matter where he went, Goten was following him, like someone dressed in yellow trying to blend in with the shadows and not be seen. It was rather silly, but Piccolo didn't know how to discourage the attention. Plus, if Goten was following him, then he wasn't bothering anyone else. Sometimes, though, he just wished the demi- saiyajin would leave him alone. Didn't Goten have better things to do than follow him around?  
  
Piccolo could also feel the presence of Trunks, though how the lavender haired male was staying awake was anyone's guess. Trunks had stayed most of the night with him, talking and retelling history so that Piccolo might have a better understanding. But, what Trunks knew and understood the most was what was currently happening in the Palace. And that was of a great deal of importance, too. There was also the fact that as long as Piccolo knew where Trunks was, he felt a little better about the demi-saiyajin, as if he alone protected the younger male. It was his paternal reaction to children coming out again, like it had when Trunks and Goten, and even Gohan, were younger and less competent.  
  
Goten gazed out from where he sat, hidden amid the shrubbery. He knew the others didn't see him. He knew that no one was wearing a scouter, so therefore they couldn't detect him. But none of that really mattered, considering the only thing, the only person, who held his attention was the large, green, naked man sitting in the pool talking so softly to his companions that it was almost an intimate conversation. He wished he were closer, or had better hearing so that he could hear what they were talking about. Goten knew, however, that he'd have to be part of the conversation to actually hear it, their voices were that low.  
  
Goten scowled in frustration. He didn't really understand why he was there. He knew Gohan was after the strange warrior, but he continuously followed him anyway. It wasn't as if Piccolo had displayed any kind of overt rebelliousness; in fact, he appeared to be quite tame compared to some of the other lower level fighters out there. His train of thought suddenly derailed as he found his eyes locked with the steady gaze of his prey. The prince found himself feeling very much like the rabbit at that moment, not the fox. He knew, he just knew, that Piccolo knew he was there, but he didn't know how. Then even that thought left him as Piccolo stood up out of the pool, water rushing down his green skin.  
  
The dark-haired demi-saiyajin's eyes darted between the other people in the area. 18 was gazing at the sky. 17 appeared to be staring at his own feet. Yamcha and Krillin were so absorbed in their whispering that they noticed no one else. That left him and Piccolo. Piccolo, who was lightly patting himself down with a fluffy white towel. Piccolo, who was still completely without apparel. Piccolo, who seemed to have his eyes locked onto Goten's, even though the smaller male was totally concealed behind the garden foliage. His tongue flickered out over his parched lips as his dark orbs drank in the sight of the green man.  
  
And then the eye contact was broken, and Goten was free to remind himself how to breathe, which he knew, was a very important thing to do. His body was humming again, as if it wanted something, but he didn't understand the tune well enough to give it whatever it was craving. He ached, though. He ached in ways he usually was much better at ignoring. With large, riveted eyes, he watched as Piccolo's clothes magically appeared on him. Amazing. Cautiously, the demi-saiyajin followed the green warrior away from the garden, aware that not only was he hiding from Piccolo, but also from 17, who sometimes seemed to have a sixth sense about where he was.  
  
Far enough behind to remain out of detection, Trunks trailed the other demi- saiyajin. He was positively exhausted, but he wanted to follow Goten a little more before he retired to 17's room. His mother had asked him to do that, after all, and she so very rarely asked anything of him. He wanted to comply as best as he could. So far, all he'd had to report to her was that Goten did nothing but follow Piccolo. He'd seen that the royal made time for his actual work, but there wasn't much of it to be done, so he'd filled the rest of his time with watching the green man. It was odd, he'd surmised, that the prince should take such an overwhelming interest in one of the palace's guests.  
  
Then again, Trunks had already begun to guess why his mother truly wanted him to follow the other demi-saiyajin. There was something about the way that that Goten looked at Piccolo. It wasn't a harsh, cruel, manipulative look. It wasn't the face he'd worn for as long as Trunks had known the dark- haired male. Goten appeared... confused. And he was never really confused. Confusion wasn't all, however. There was something else. Like... Like the way Vegeta looked at Yamcha. Or Zarbon looked at his mother. Trunks frowned deeply as he crept behind Goten. Was there... love? Was this what his mother had theorized? No, surely not. Trunks shook his lavender head. Goten couldn't be in love with Piccolo. Could he? 


	7. Epiphany

Disclaimer: Neither I, Summer Starr, nor my companion, Deanybean, own Dragonball Z. Trust us, if we did, a whole lotta things would change.  
  
Warnings: Yaoi/Slash. M/M situations. PLUS, I also think there might be some M/F situations here, somewhere, too. Be forwarned. Oh, and a side note to all those out there, WE WANT SOME REVIEWS!! ~glares~ Dammit, we wanna know what you think or if you do. If you don't think, simply drop us a line saying, "I don't think, I'm just a yes-man." Like in that commercial. And no, we don't have anything to do with that either.  
  
Kingdom Come ~ Chapter 07  
  
Goten rested his head against the green satin of his pillowcase. He wore only a pair of black, loose-fitting sleep pants, as it was late at night. He stretched out, contented, his tail popping slightly as it stretched down behind him against the bed's mattress. He had just ordered new sheets placed on his bed, forgoing his usual white in favor of hunter green. His covers were of a deep purple as a contrast. The prince smiled as he rubbed his bare back against the satiny feel. He loved new sheets. So clean.  
  
Grinning to himself, he rolled onto his stomach and simply drowned himself in the feel. He had no real idea why he did this, just a whim. But, before he could get too comfortable, the door to his room suddenly hissed open to allow an unannounced visitor in. Goten threw a chi blast before he even thought to question who it was. But it didn't matter. If it had been someone of low rank, the blast would have killed them, and would have been just punishment for entering the prince's room without an invitation. Unfortunately, the blast was merely deflected to a nearby table, which caused Goten to find he had a new stack of kindling already in his room should he ever want to start a fire.  
  
"Goten, that's no way to great your brother." Gohan grinned, his teeth flashing in the dim light. Goten growled a bit, but sat up anyway. Gohan acknowledged the move with a light laugh as he went to sit on the edge of his brother's bed. "Already going to sleep, are you? So early, too. And alone."  
  
"As you say, brother," Goten replied calmly, not rising to the taunting. He had lived with it for this long, why bother? "Why are you here?"  
  
"Can't I just be visiting?" Gohan smiled.  
  
Goten was reminded of the strange earth animals called alligators, who were always smiling, and who also cried false tears. "Considering that you saw me at dinner tonight, I don't see why you would wish to visit with me again so soon. Don't your duties demand more of your attention?"  
  
"Nah. Not while His Majesty is away. Of course, we only have another two months of this. Father should be back about a month before the tournament!" Gohan laughed as he dropped back to lie on Goten's new sheets. "So..."  
  
Goten forced himself not to snort. He'd have to get new sheets. "What?"  
  
"I was wondering if you'd be willing to have a little spar tomorrow," Gohan inquired from where he laid upon the bed. He ran his hands over the silky feel of the clean sheets. "Nice sheets. Don't you usually sleep in 'Virgin White'? I mean, it is more fitting for you."  
  
"Thank you, they -were- new," Goten replied in a clipped voice, knowing that his brother remained unaware of his growing anger. He hated how his brother kept harping on the fact that he refused to sleep around with anything that breathed as the rest of the family seemed more than inclined to do. "And I would love the chance to fight you tomorrow. May I ask why you're wanting this little bout?"  
  
"Oh!" Gohan grinned as he rolled onto his side, still looking at his brother. His tail curled up in the sheets behind him, playing against the material as if it were its own toy. "I hear that Lord Piccolo is going to be there. I don't think he's been participating, but I know that he's been watching. And like I told you before, I think that he could make a very good... ally. I want him to see how strong I, um, WE, are, so he knows that WE are worthy of him."  
  
"You mean that you want show off while fighting me," Goten said, dryly. He was getting sick, and he didn't know why. He started going over the extensive list of things he had eaten that day, but not thinking anything was poisoned.  
  
"Yeah, pretty much," Gohan replied happily, smiling at his younger brother. "You're the best opponent I have, so I know you'll make me look good."  
  
"Why, thank you for the praise," Goten answered. "I'll meet you in the arena a little after breakfast. That's when he arrives."  
  
"Oh, you know his schedule?" Gohan asked with naked interest. Of anyone in the palace who would know the most about their strange, exotic visitor, it would be Goten. Goten, the Royal Inquisitor. Goten, the resident spy. It was part of his brother's job to spy on all newcomers to the palace, especially those who some considered a threat. And there were more than a few that considered Lord Piccolo a threat, no matter what the scouters read.  
  
"Some of it. Most of the time, he simply retreats to one of the palace gardens and meditates," Goten replied evasively as he looked at his brother's tail still playing absently in his new, satiny sheets. His own tail wrapped around his middle.  
  
"Huh. He seems passive, but I know he's powerful. I just know it!" Gohan cried out as he jumped to his feet. "I'll meet you there, little brother. Oh, and about your sheets. I like them. They remind me of Piccolo. I think I might have to get some sheets like those. I can't wait to sleep in them! I mean, all that green, touching your body as you go to sleep... And the dark purple is the exact same color as his gi."  
  
With that statement, Prince Gohan left his younger brother's room. Goten looked at the sheets, the thick blanket, and the place where Gohan had been laying. With a sigh of half resignation, half disgust, he went to the comm- unit and hailed room service. "I need new sheets."  
  
"Yes, Prince Goten," came a feminine voice over the intercom. "We have listed here that you had ordered dark green satin sheets and a dark purple comforter. Would you like the same colorings again?"  
  
Goten looked at the bed again, and thought about the strange green warrior. He shivered, but he didn't know from what, as he turned back to the intercom. "No. I'll have my standard white sheets and brown blanket."  
  
"As you wish, sire." And the communication terminal fell silent again.  
  
Goten left the room, not looking back over his shoulder. He had to get his mind clear. Somehow. He needed to sleep, and there was no way he was going to sleep any time soon, not with the way his mind was racing. Thoughts flew by him so fast he had no time to actually grasp them long enough to make sense of them. He continued to walk, knowing that his room would be ready by the time he was.  
  
Aimlessly, he went down some of the more infrequently used corridors, his brother's visit still plaguing his mind. It was past curfew, so he wasn't afraid of being seen with so little on, but it never hurt to be a bit more cautious. 'Damn him,' he thought. 'Ruining my sheets. Why does he always have to taint things that belong to me?' Goten tried not to dwell on the sheets, after all, they were easily replaced, but he couldn't get his brother's smug expression out of his mind. It irritated him to no end to think of how cocky his brother was when it came to this. And he hadn't even spoken with the green man one-on-one!  
  
Just thinking of that reminded Goten of his own personal conversation with the stranger. Goten growled as he leaned his bare back up against a wall. He took deep, soothing, calming breaths that did nothing but remind him of how it felt to be pressed between his opponent and the wall. It had been frightening. And good. He leaned his head back, thunking it on the wall. His tail swung low, lightly brushing the floor. He needed to do something about this! But what?  
  
With a disgusted sound directed at himself, Goten pushed off the wall and continued on his meandering course, mindful of the dull ache that troubled his lower anatomy. He had been aroused before. It would go away on its own. He didn't have to degrade himself with some trash for a whore, nor would he have to pleasure himself. It would go away! Just as he would be able to push whatever strange thoughts or feelings he had for the green man away. Sighing, he wished everything would just go away and let him get on with his normal, second-best-is-all-he'd-get, life.  
  
He rubbed his arms, not really feeling any kind of chill, just needing the contact. He sighed as he looked at the floor, not at where he was going. No one was out, so he had nothing to concern himself with. And if anyone was out, then he had the right to kill them on the spot. It was his right, as a Prince and as the Royal Inquisitor. But he was reminded of what Lord Piccolo had asked him, and he wondered, as one often wonders things that seem absurd, if he actually would kill the curfew breaker.  
  
A light smell of greenery caught Goten's attention, shifting his gaze from the uninteresting patterns on the floor upward. He found himself at a very familiar spot, the place where he and Piccolo had fought. Instead of patching over the hole in the wall, Goten had required an archway there. Tilting his head to the side, the young prince wandered into the foliage, his tail swaying low and unguarded behind him. Strangely, given more light from inside the palace to the garden, odd flowers seemed to bloom. Goten gave a half grin as he leaned into one, sniffing the aromatic plant. 'Wonder what kind of fruit this will give,' he thought. Smiling, he plucked the flower and resumed his meandering course through the hallways.  
  
He didn't realize Trunks was there until he was almost upon the other demi- saiyajin. It wasn't that he actually saw him, either. It was the drastic stench of stark terror that overpowered the delicate smell of the flower that alerted him to the other's presence. He looked up and noticed how wide and terrified Trunks' eyes were as they watched him. Yet, as terrified as the other was, he didn't move. Not a single muscle even twitched as Goten approached him. The purple tail hung lifeless, waiting to be abused and mangled again.  
  
He stopped moving, looking at the slightly older demi-saiyajin. He thought of what Lord Piccolo said again, and remembered the threat about abusing Trunks. He didn't want to use the other male anyway. 'He's nothing to me,' Goten told himself as he tried to convince himself that he was in control of his life. With a slight quirk of his lips, Goten began to walk again, walking right past the other male.  
  
Trunks was astonished to say the least. He watched in mute shock as Goten almost grinned at him as he walked past. He knew Piccolo had said something to him, something about changing his ways, but did the prince want him so greatly that he'd actually -do- as the other demanded?!  
  
Questions that needed answers...  
  
Turning as Goten passed him, Trunks came to a last minute decision. Before he was out of whispering range, Trunks confessed to one secret he had, something that was sure to get Goten's attention. The lavender haired half- breed just hoped that it would do some good. For both of them. "He doesn't have anyone. Piccolo, I mean. No one sleeps in his bed in his home except him."  
  
Trunks waited for what he thought was to come. Instead of turning on him and demanding more information, though, Goten merely paused, turned to look over his shoulder, nodded in acknowledgment, and then continued on, as if he hadn't said anything.  
  
Curiouser and curiouser.  
  
Goten finally made his way back to his room. He'd figured that the servants had had ample time to change his bed linens, and he was correct. Fresh new sheets and blankets awaited him. Crawling into the large bed, he buried himself in the softness, pulling the blankets up to his chin. He examined them a bit; they were his usual fare, bland and simple. Goten sighed, already missing the rich jewel-tones of the green and purple sheets he'd just had. Maybe he would have them exchanged again.  
  
But then, wouldn't that just remind him more of the enigmatic Piccolo? Gohan had been right; the colors were chosen with the stranger in mind, though subconsciously, Goten admitted. Everything he did now seemed to substantiate his growing fascination with the green warrior. Why? Why couldn't he just rid himself of these feelings and thoughts? It was all far too distracting. And what was the point anyway? Gohan had set his mind to getting Piccolo, and what the elder prince wanted, he got.  
  
On the other hand, Piccolo hadn't sought out the older demi-saiyajin and had even looked disapprovingly on him at first sight. Yet he'd taken the time to speak to Goten, even if it was just to reprimand him. Although the ending had been left open. He recalled the green male standing over him, saying, 'When you can answer my questions, come back and talk with ME.' That was almost an invitation, wasn't it?  
  
In general, Goten wouldn't have required an invite to speak to a guest, but Piccolo was the exception... in so many ways. He'd earned Goten's respect somehow, something he rarely gave to anyone. He wasn't even sure how or when Piccolo earned his respect; it was just there. And born from that respect was the demi-saiyajin's need for permission. Yes, he followed Piccolo around, but he wouldn't approach him, not unless the green male approved.  
  
Trunks' small comment played itself over and over in his head. 'He doesn't have anyone.' So. Piccolo was, in fact, available. Why had the lavender- haired demi-saiyajin thought to tell him that? And... why was he volunteering information? Yes, Trunks still had seemed frightened by him, but Goten had left him alone; he hadn't planned on saying a word to the other male and didn't. 'He must've just been scared," Goten deduced. But still, he was somewhat thankful for the information. Piccolo was alone. And Goten could relate to that.  
  
The stark white of the sheets glared at him as he was trying to fall asleep, and the prince wished for the green sheets even more. His last thought before he drifted off was, 'I'll have them replaced in the morning.'  
  
***  
  
Vegeta smiled shyly as Yamcha situated himself on the bed. He couldn't help the smile, small as it was. It was just so... strange. Here he was, a glorified nobody now, and this human went out of his way to make him feel special. It was rather... nice. Frightening in a way few things were, but nice. After the first few nights of continuous visiting, Vegeta hit upon the idea that perhaps Yamcha was going to come see him every night. When he did, it was enough to make the one-time prince weak with relief. And every morning, after the human left, Vegeta was free to move onto his side of the bed and soak in the smell of the other male. He didn't admit this to Yamcha though. He'd NEVER do that.  
  
"Um, do you mind if I take off my shirt, please? It's hot in here, and you don't have any kind of decent circulation in this room," Yamcha asked.  
  
Vegeta nodded his head, his mouth suddenly desert dry. Yamcha always asked, always tried to be polite, but somehow Vegeta found that he couldn't say no to whatever the other wanted. He watched with hungry eyes as Yamcha carelessly took off his shirt and tossed it close to the entrance, easily accessible on his way out the door.  
  
Yamcha laid back down, curling up into his favorite spot. As soon as Vegeta finished his lullaby, he would roll over and allow the other male to curl up at his back. They had been playing this game for almost a month now. Probably a little over. There were teases, soft touches, but nothing that either of them could define as overt. Nothing that couldn't be said to have been... accidents. It was a kind of odd, torturous foreplay that was slowly killing Yamcha. He only hoped, in a strangely evilly perverse way, that it was having the same kind of effect on his tormentor.  
  
Vegeta had to force himself to not walk the three feet over to the bed, and... His mind failed him each and every time he thought about trying something. He honestly didn't know what the other expected of him, nor did he understand completely what he expected of himself. His tail refused to wrap around his middle, deciding it would rather curl up tightly behind him. He turned his back to the scarred warrior on his bed, needing some way to clear his mind in order to think. He was running out of things to sing. There was one thing he -could- sing, but it wasn't the sort of thing that was... well, it was supposed to mean something. He looked back over his shoulder at Yamcha's expectant eyes. 'Dammit. Why is he doing this to me?' But he knew, even as he cursed the other, that he would rather be living this hell, this fire and passion and confusion, rather than his old one of stone and cold and indifference.  
  
His tail made a snapping sound as it whipped through the air. He had made his decision. He'd live with it and worry about it later. His footsteps were steady as he walked over to the bed, something of which he was rather proud since his knees felt as reliable as broken scouters. "Roll over."  
  
"What?" Yamcha asked, sitting up instead. This was unusual. "No song?"  
  
"I'm going to sing to you, but this is a very... different song. It goes straight from the singer to the audience. No one else is allowed to hear this," Vegeta said as he tossed his own shirt to the opposite wall. Yamcha had yet to ask him to translate any of the songs he had sung, which was just as well. He just prayed, prayed to whatever deity out there who might remember him and might be listening, that Yamcha didn't ask for the translation of this one. With his heart hammering in his throat, he asked softly, "So, do you want to hear it or not?"  
  
"Different, huh?" Yamcha blinked. He remembered well that the prince only knew lullabies. So, he assumed that this one was for a newborn, or something. Someone who would have to be held close as the song was sung.  
  
Yamcha laid back down, laying on his side, shivering slightly as his back came into contact with Vegeta's chest and one muscled arm wrapped around him. He felt Vegeta rise up on the other arm, bracing himself above him. And then, the softest crooning began, blowing gently over his ear. Yamcha's entire body tightened at the sound, quivering. Vegeta closed his eyes as he drank in the scent of the human, drinking it in as if it were a fine cognac to be savored. If lust had been an enemy attack, Yamcha knew he'd be so dead that not even the dragonballs could revive him again. A brown tail betrayed itself by wrapping around both males as they lay in the bed. Vegeta was usually able to keep his lower half from directly touching the human, from giving his secret away, but in this instance, he was curled so tightly behind the other that there was no room for secrets. Yamcha was so focused on the soft sounds of the saiyajin's voice, the feel of his breath gently blowing against his ear, and the feel of his hand pressing Yamcha's upper torso back into him that he almost missed the hardness pressed into him. Almost, but not quite.  
  
Yamcha wanted to turn over and simply kiss the other male. Kissing first, sex next. But he knew he couldn't do that. Not yet. Yamcha had some tact, more than most gave him credit for, and it was telling him that if Vegeta hadn't said anything yet, then there was a good reason. What that reason was, the human had no clue, but he knew that the prince had to have one. He -had- to, otherwise, he'd have to hurt him for putting them -BOTH- through this torture.  
  
Vegeta had to concentrate on the words. He had to. He was getting drunk off of the heady scent of Yamcha's arousal. It was intoxicating. But he had promised a song, and that was what he was delivering. He didn't have to tell the meaning behind it, only sing it. He didn't have to say that the song was meant for his beloved, and ONLY his beloved. He only had to sing. So, the once proud saiyajin prince crooned the only love song he knew into the ear of the shivering human. When he was done, he gently kissed the curve of Yamcha's ear and then buried his head into the human's back. He felt better for it, as if singing it had actually done something more than make a fool of himself.  
  
"Wow," Yamcha whispered softly, too stunned to think up a more elaborate reply. "Wow. That was... wow."  
  
Vegeta smiled, his heart filling with pride. "Yeah. Now, sleep."  
  
"Okay," the human replied, still stunned. He laid awake for a little while longer, staring at nothing, trying to think of anything nearly enough to equal that experience. The arm around his middle tightened, proving that Vegeta knew he was still awake. But he couldn't help it. He was strung so tight that... "Vegeta?"  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"Can you sing that to me again? Not tonight, but soon?" Yamcha asked, glad for the fact that the saiyajin couldn't see his blush.  
  
"If you like, I can teach it to you. But you'll have to swear, SWEAR to me, that you'll never sing it to anyone other than me," Vegeta answered him.  
  
"Could you? Please?" Yamcha asked, trying to look over his shoulder. "I'd really enjoy it."  
  
"I will teach it to you, then," Vegeta said. He opened his mouth to say more, but no sound came out. He tried three times, before sighing in defeat. He leaned and tilted his head a little and planted an open mouth kiss on the bare flesh of the human's back. "Go to sleep. Dawn comes too soon, and Trunks comes before."  
  
Yamcha released a jagged sigh. He doubted he would ever be able to sleep, even as dark talons of unconsciousness dragged him under.  
  
***  
  
Mornings were never the same, yet they were never too different from the last that someone might take notice. The arenas were filled with people. Low-level fighters desperately trying to raise their status, raise their chances of survival. There were some that were the only warriors of religious races. There were some that were there to gain honor for their families. And there were some there simply because they had no place else to be. Piccolo looked at all of the fighters, taking note of their fighting styles and their attacks, and knew that of those sparring, not a single one stood a chance of surviving.  
  
The raven-haired android guard stood close at hand, watching the taller green male watch the fighters. He knew that Trunks was not nearby, though it wasn't because of any reading in his scouter. It was more because he had seen the exhaustion in the other's blue eyes earlier that morning and demanded that Trunks get some sleep. Trunks tried to refuse at first, but 17 made sure to insist. He kept muttering about doing as his mother said. It took a few less than subtle statements that if Trunks wasn't at his best, he would get caught, he would get hurt, and then his mother would suffer at his suffering before Trunks finally agreed to sleep. With a mental shake, 17 refocused on the present. "So, do you wish to participate?"  
  
Before Piccolo could respond, a different kind of signal was given. A harsh gong sound reverberated off every available surface, vibrating the air. All the fighters dropped from the sky as if they were all mere flies sprayed with bug killer. The two princes entered the arena area.  
  
Gohan was wearing a long, flowing red cape over his tight black sparring pants. He wore shoes and wristbands, but that was about all. As he neared the actual tiled fighting arena, he tossed his cape to the ground. He climbed onto the surface and turned around, glaring at most of the gathered fighters. When his eyes fell onto 17, the glare deepened. But when they landed on Piccolo, the expression turned into more of a predatory grin.  
  
Goten wore no shirt as well, but did not wear a cape either. His shoes barely made any sound as he stepped onto the tiled floor. He did not look at anyone other than his brother, though he was highly conscious of everyone in the room. He hated going out in public without being fully clothed, but he hated ruining his clothes when he sparred with his brother, too. So, he gave a little to save his wardrobe. His tail snapped in the air once behind him before it wrapped itself securely around his middle. He noticed that Gohan's tail teased behind the other prince, as if daring anyone to even try. Goten's eyes narrowed dangerously. He would show Gohan that he should be more interested in fighting rather than flirting.  
  
"So, little brother, ready to fight?" Gohan asked, loud enough that everyone in their growing audience could hear. From where he stood, he could see Piccolo and 17 watching. His focus was on the green man. Piccolo was the mystery. Piccolo was the prize.  
  
"I am always ready, your royal-ness," Goten replied. This was the only place he allowed himself to openly taunt his older brother. It was a treat to see how the older demi-saiyajin's smile turned sour. Of course he was ruining Gohan's fun, but it was about the only thing he'd enjoy during this. He was about to have his ass handed to him, and he knew it.  
  
And then the fight was on.  
  
Piccolo watched from where he stood, his arms folded over his chest. He noticed when 17 walked up to stand right beside him, amused when the android took a rather familiar pose, one that his alter was better known for. The black ponytail did not move as the human-looking male said, "It is considered a rare treat to see the princes fight."  
  
"Are they really going to fight?" Piccolo asked, not really needing an answer. He could sense the power levels the two were displaying, even without the irritating scouters that it seemed everyone and their dog owned around the palace. He watched as Gohan started as the attacker, throwing punches faster than some of the audience could watch. He took notice of how Goten was defending himself, throwing in persistent attacks that did minimal damage. Of the two, Piccolo thought that Gohan was the stronger, but Goten was the smarter. Goten had a chance, but only if he kept the other from pounding him into the ground. Each offensive attack left his defenses weakened. Piccolo grimaced as Goten unwittingly overextended his arm, leaving a wide opening of which Gohan happily took advantage.  
  
Goten flew back and crashed to the tiled floor of the arena with the severity of the attack. Gohan wasn't pulling his punches, which was a good thing as much as it was a bad thing. It meant that he -had- been hurting his big brother. It meant that Gohan -was- trying. And it meant that Goten didn't have that much time before his older brother finished him off. All in all, this whole situation sucked. Growling, Goten jumped up and away from a super fast, yet non-lethal chi attack. He was back in the fight, moving faster than he had ever done before. He was angry. Confused. Desperate. And his brother was there, laughing at him. NO MORE!  
  
Gohan's grin faltered at the sudden ferocity of his younger brother's attack. He ducked down to avoid Goten's fists and elbows that rained down on him. He had to keep moving, otherwise another attack might catch him. He thought that Goten understood, this was just to gain Piccolo's attention. A sudden spike of pain that hurt a lot more than any of the previous others did told him that Goten wasn't playing. Gohan's grin went from playful to fierce. At last here was a real fight!  
  
"As you can see, they are truly fighting," the android guard answered softly, somewhat taken aback by how fierce this fight was. This level of heated combat was usually reserved only for planet purging, wars, or the tournament. Synthetic lips twitched upward in interest, almost forming a smug smile. This was something he would have to tell Trunks about.  
  
"Gohan wasn't expecting the level of this fight," Piccolo stated softly to his guard, knowing that everyone in the room, including the two combatants, were too occupied with the fight to pay any kind of attention to what he was doing or saying. He took note of how 17 seemed to glance at him and then back at the fight. "See the way his eyes keep dancing around, as if he doesn't know what to expect from his opponent. Goten doesn't usually take the offensive, does he? He isn't that good at it. He's overextending his left, and he doesn't use his right leg all that much. He should diversify. Gohan's picked up on that fact. He's going to aim for what he thinks is Goten's weak points. If he's not careful, he's going to end up hurt."  
  
17 was about to ask to whom his charge was referring, when he saw Gohan aim a low kick at his brother's right knee.  
  
The attack never landed. Goten caught the leg in mid-motion, a confident smirk on his face. "Watch it, highness. Don't want to sink too low."  
  
Gohan glared at his younger brother, but the eye contact was severed when a brown tail came out of nowhere and slapped the younger demi-saiyajin hard across the face. The attack did not do too much damage, but it allowed Gohan the opportunity to escape his predicament and fall into the offensive.  
  
"Pride comes before a fall, little brother," Gohan fairly snarled. He didn't hold anything back and attacked his offensive opponent with everything he had in him. He was outraged that his brother, his own brother, had tried to mock him. Him! In public! And in front of Lord Piccolo, no less! He grinned as he saw blood fly from a laceration on Goten's face, but that grinning was nothing more than a baring of teeth.  
  
Goten landed with a heavy thump on the tile floor, too worn and beaten to do more than groan. His red blood spilled onto the otherwise white tiles. He felt more than saw his older brother's dark shadow fall over him as Gohan gave one last kick. Goten cried out in pain, curling in on himself. Daring to look up, he was rewarded with the slightest satisfaction at seeing Gohan with a bloody mouth and a black eye. 'I did that.' Goten glared up at his brother in impotent anger. He was hurt. He wasn't going to lie about it.  
  
"You staying down?" Gohan rasped as he panted. He hadn't had this much of a workout in a long, long time. He didn't want to have gotten carried away though, seeing as he rather liked it. He hoped the younger demi-saiyajin would heal soon, but knew that the blood-splattered spy wasn't going to be offering up any more of a fight. No matter what he said.  
  
"Yeah," Goten replied, coughing up blood. He realized that one of his lungs had to have been pierced. He hated when that happened. He'd have to go to the tanks, and he absolutely hated doing that. All those pesky doctors running their hands over him. And then he was still left with the foul taste of the rejuvenation liquid in his mouth for about a week afterwards. Added to that, it seemed he was the only one who was able to taste the stuff, so no one believed him when he said it tasted horribly.  
  
"I think you should go see the medics," Gohan said as he crouched down by his brother. He grimaced as he realized just how far the game had gone. "I'll call for them."  
  
"Don't bother," Piccolo's deep voice called out as he approached the side of the arena, easily stepping onto the white tiles. The others in the audience were flabbergasted at the display of bravado, but Piccolo had never really cared for the opinions of idiots. "I'll take him. He'll get there faster."  
  
Gohan's eyes narrowed. "I don't think so. He doesn't need your help."  
  
"Yes he does," Piccolo countered as he continued his advance. "You broke two of his ribs, and the tip of his tail. I believe you also broke his foot and ankle. He won't be able to walk, and I can get him to the medical center faster than one of them could get here and get back."  
  
"Why bother?" Goten gasped from his place on the ground. "A little pain never hurt anybody."  
  
"I don't like to see others suffer needlessly," Piccolo said as he looked directly at Gohan.  
  
Gohan glared for a moment, then sighed as he stood up. He didn't think that the other man was being honest, but he couldn't exactly call him a liar. There was no proof. But he did volunteer. Normally, he would not have allowed a guest to do as Piccolo was. However, with the amount of witnesses, the green man would have no escape if anything were to happen to the younger prince. His volunteering was suspicious, nevertheless. Gohan just hoped it wasn't because he really was as soft as he claimed. Otherwise, the man might not be as creative in bed as the prince hoped. "And here I was hoping that you'd be willing to get... physical with me. I guess I'll have to find someone else to... spar with."  
  
"So sorry to decline your invitation, but I'm sure 17 would enjoy the chance," Piccolo suggested as he simply picked up Goten. The green warrior kept his eyes on Gohan the entire time he was in the arena, knowing that the other was not to be trusted.  
  
Gohan's eyes narrowed dangerously. Yet another public slight. What was this? Did someone tell everyone that it was okay to insult the royal heir today without informing the intended victim? Bodies were going to be broken for the injustice of it! Smiling graciously, he nodded his head to the android, accepting the offer. Well, if he couldn't have the one he wanted, he could at least take it out on someone he didn't like. He didn't know why he disliked 17; it was just something that he had always felt. Almost as if his father trusted the android more than him, which was reasonable, but still highly irritating. "As you like, Lord Piccolo. Perhaps some other time we might play together."  
  
"Perhaps," Piccolo replied, which was as diplomatic as he was going to be in that moment. He quickly took off towards the medical labs, moving so fast that others, including 17 didn't even see him leave.  
  
Goten had molded himself to Piccolo's chest immediately, trying to alleviate some of his pain. His glazed eyes barely noticed when they left or when they arrived. All he could see was the green of Piccolo's face. And then there was the cold of a table at his back, and medics all around him. He kept his eyes vaguely focused on Piccolo though. He did his best to ignore the hands that danced over his bruised flesh, trying to keep his attention occupied with something more interesting. He was aware of being taken to a tank and set inside of it. Someone put a breather on him, filling his lungs with putrid scents that were supposed to help him heal. Just before the tank lid closed, he saw Piccolo come forward.  
  
"This will give you ample time to reflect. I suggest you make the most of it. Think about what I asked you the other day. Think about who you are. And what you want," Piccolo demanded quietly.  
  
Goten nodded his head, too tired and sore and defeated to fight off anyone else. He would do as the other commanded. He was used to following orders. He closed his eyes tiredly as he allowed his head to fall back. The door closed, and the liquid quickly filled up the chamber.  
  
"Sir?" One of the medics came up to Piccolo, her clipboard in hand. "What are you still doing here?"  
  
"I'm waiting for him to get out," Piccolo stated rather bluntly. "How long?"  
  
"Oh, well, since it's Prince Goten, I'd say he has only a few hours of actual tank time," she answered, somewhat taken aback. More because he was actually waiting for the prince rather than the tone of voice. Working at the palace, one tended to become accustomed to rudeness.  
  
Piccolo nodded his head and went to an out of the way corner and leaned against the joint of the walls. He had time. He could wait. He needed to talk with the little prince. That was, after all, the reason he volunteered for this. Well, one of the reasons at any rate.  
  
The dark-haired demi-saiyajin floated in the tank. Comparing his injuries to previous times he'd had to go into the tank, he figured he had about three hours or so. Three long hours with just him and his thoughts. Why couldn't they figure out a way to knock themselves unconscious for this?  
  
'This is ridiculous,' he thought to himself. 'Who am I? What do I want? How am I supposed to answer questions like these? How is -anyone- supposed to answer questions like these? Aren't these rhetorical?'  
  
Maybe he'd consider those later. Currently, the most pressing issue on his mind was the green man he knew to be standing mere feet away from him in the room outside of the tank. Why had Piccolo volunteered to bring him here? It was most confusing. He was such a mystery, wasn't he? Normally, Goten didn't mind a few mysteries. They could stay that way; it was fine by him. But Piccolo was an ambiguity he wanted to decipher.  
  
He was strong, and Goten knew that for fact. The way he'd picked him up like he'd weighed nothing was certainly telling of that. But there was a kindness there, something he would usually find uncommon in a man of strength. It set him apart from anyone he'd ever known before. But the way he'd spoken to Gohan was also revealing. The green male obviously didn't want anything to do with the other prince. And that was strange. Who wouldn't have bent any way they could've to please the preferred brother? Yet Piccolo had defied him by choosing to escort Goten to the medical lab rather than play Gohan's game. Yes, he definitely was a puzzle.  
  
He'd felt so secure in Piccolo's arms when he was carrying him. He didn't mind the pain. He didn't mind that some stranger was helping him or that the other weaker fighters had seen his frailty in injury. And that was so unlike himself. Typically, he would've balked at the idea that he'd accept assistance so eagerly. But it was Piccolo. The man he... Goten suddenly caught himself. What was he just about to admit to himself? No, no, that couldn't be right! It couldn't! He'd never allowed himself to do anything of the sort. Why now? He barely knew the man. There couldn't be enough there for him to have...  
  
'Say it,' an inner voice commanded him. 'Say it. Say you're in love with him. Say that you, the mighty Prince Goten, the man who promised himself to never display a weakness like having emotions, to never allow yourself to lower yourself like that, are in love with Piccolo. Say it!'  
  
'I like him,' he finally confessed. 'That doesn't mean I love him. But... I wouldn't mind exploring the option with him. He's very... attractive. Strong, not just of body but also of mind. Wise. I think... May the gods help me, I am in love with him.'  
  
The young prince suddenly felt as if heavy bonds that had locked his heart down had disintegrated. Did his confession mean that much to him? Had this really been weighing him down so greatly? Yes, it felt amazing to have admitted it. But where did this leave him? Surely the other man wouldn't return these feelings. And what about Gohan? He would never betray his brother in such a manner. Unquestionably, he was loyal to his brother, despite the fact that he didn't particularly like him nor his actions. Goten didn't want to discredit his loyalty by chasing after his brother's current pursuit.  
  
'But damn him and his fixation,' Goten cursed inwardly. 'He doesn't want Piccolo; he wants his body. He wouldn't even realize what he was missing! Gohan isn't worthy, not this time. He would never love Piccolo. He couldn't. He doesn't have it in him.'  
  
Feeling justified, Goten let his mind wander to other things. He could now answer one of Piccolo's questions. What did he want? Piccolo's love. Would he tell the other male that? Hell no. He'd have to come up with something else. What else did he want, anyway? Rarely did he think so much about himself; he was just so used to not getting anything that he'd learned to not want anything. That was something that was beginning to irk him. Why couldn't he get what he wanted? Was he so undeserving? No way. He hadn't done anything worse than anyone else might have, relatively speaking.  
  
What did he want? Respect, trust, to belong. Belonging... He'd always wanted to belong, to fit in. But he never had. That was how he'd ended up as the Royal Inquisitor, hidden away from the world in the dark dungeons of the palace. He was too quiet, too calculating, too smart. Not outgoing. Not brash. Not bold or exceptionally brave. He was strong and an excellent fighter, but he did not run out into battle like his family; he was more content to strategize. And this was useful to his father and his brother. But it set him apart, like he wasn't really part of their little 'club'. Excluded. But it wasn't as if he didn't help matters either. He wasn't all that similar to them, and he didn't always want to be. They were practically whores, sleeping with whomever they wished whenever they wished, taking it by force if necessary. Goten hated that. He had kept himself pure in that way. No one had ever touched him intimately and vice versa. It was Gohan's favorite joke about him. How he hated that joke!  
  
All at once, everything became clear to him, floating there in the tank. 'I want to stop pretending,' Goten announced to himself. 'I want to stop pretending that everything's okay, that -I'm- okay. I want to stop pretending that I don't care about anything. I don't want to be afraid of that. I don't want to be just half of a man. I want to be better. I want to be good enough to earn Piccolo's respect. His trust. And maybe, someday, his love. I want to belong... with him.'  
  
The rejuvenation chamber began to drain, and Goten regained his ability to move. The medics detached all of the sensors from his body, removing him from the tank. They swiftly dried him and then exited just as quickly, leaving the prince alone with Piccolo. The tall male stood in the corner of the room, leaning against one of the walls. "Feeling better?" he queried.  
  
"I'm fine," Goten answered. He picked up the new uniform the medics had left on the table for him and began dressing himself. Noting that Piccolo had turned away as if to provide him with some privacy, he clothed himself rapidly. "Thank you."  
  
"You're welcome," Piccolo responded. He saw the younger man hesitate, opening his mouth to say something but then shutting it promptly. "Is there something else you wanted to say?"  
  
"Yes, but... I'd like to leave the infirmary first," stated the prince hesitantly. As soon as he said it, he began to worry slightly. He wasn't sure where to take them.  
  
"Lead the way, then."  
  
They walked in silence until they'd finally reached their destination. Piccolo was somewhat amused by the prince's choice. "This is an interesting choice of location," the green male remarked.  
  
Goten smirked, striding slowly into the isolated garden. "Why not? The place that witnessed the first time you kicked my ass. Here is hoping it will be the last, eh? I thought it was rather appropriate."  
  
Stopping somewhere in the middle of the wild foliage, Piccolo prompted the demi-saiyajin. "You had something to say?"  
  
"Yes." Goten swallowed hard, unsure of how to proceed. The whole walk there, he'd been trying to formulate the words, all of the things he wanted to say, but at great length, only one thing came to mind. "Why? Why did you personally bring me to the medical lab?"  
  
"We need to talk, without anyone else around," stated the tall male.  
  
"You... wanted to talk to me," the demi-saiyajin repeated. Why was he so... frightened? How was it that the exotic warrior had such a... devastating effect on his mentality? Was it because he was attracted to him? Or was it some strange power that allowed him to be a better warrior?  
  
"Yes." Piccolo folded his arms across his chest. Stepping very closely to the dark-haired man, he asked, "Have you figured out who you are yet?"  
  
He shook his head. Being so close to Piccolo really was unnerving. His tall, formidable presence was overwhelming... and exciting. He suddenly longed to be wrapped up in his arms again. "No. Not yet. But I have been giving it some thought."  
  
"And did you figure out what you want?"  
  
"Yes," came the immediate answer without a moment of hesitation.  
  
Piccolo quirked an eyebrow ridge. He was a bit surprised at this. Had the prince actually used his time in the rejuvenation chamber to think about his words? This was indisputably progressive for the younger male. "And what have you decided?" he asked.  
  
"I--I, well," Goten stumbled. How could he put this? What were the right words? He didn't want to sound ridiculous. He would just have to settle for selective honesty. In a very soft voice, he said, "I've been pretending all my life that everything is all right, and that I'm fine with it, to the point that I believed it. The pretense became the reality. But now... I remembered that I was pretending, and I don't want to pretend anymore. I want to be better than that. I want to be worthy."  
  
Goten had never felt more naked or vulnerable in his life than he did in that moment. Of course, he hadn't admitted that he was in love with the man to whom he was speaking, but the words he had just spoken were indicative enough. No one knew that part of him, the part that hadn't really existed until he'd met Piccolo. He stood there, waiting, hoping that Piccolo wasn't going to laugh at him.  
  
Piccolo didn't know what to say to that. He was baffled by his words. Had Goten really changed so much, so quickly? And all on his own, with no help from anyone? What had caused him to make such a turnaround? As the questions continued to surface, suspicion crept into Piccolo's mind. Changes like this were never so sudden, especially with a lack of assistance. Perhaps something else was at work here. More than one source had informed him of Goten's deceptive nature, and he wouldn't put it past the smaller male to try to deceive him. Was the demi-saiyajin lying to him?  
  
Piccolo sought out the dark orbs of the younger man and was startled further by what he saw. These were not the eyes he'd looked into the last time he was so close to him, the eyes full of malice and arrogance; there was an earnest clarity now. They still did not sparkle with warmth and joy, but they no longer held the disdain and superiority they once had. Whether this meant that Goten was being honest or just an incredible actor, Piccolo wasn't absolutely sure, but he was oddly more inclined to believe he was being sincere. Finally, he responded, "That's a good start. There's some hope for you yet."  
  
"Thank you," came the reply. Piccolo hadn't laughed. Goten sighed in relief. In fact, it seemed Piccolo had taken what he'd said quite seriously. That was more than for what the demi-saiyajin could have asked.  
  
Originally, Piccolo had intended to tell the prince to stop following him, to leave him alone, but now... How could he tell him to stay away when he was making so much progress? "If you'd ever like to discuss further what you want, or if you decide you finally know who you are, you can always come to me," Piccolo offered. Then with a smirk, he added, "Instead of just following me around all day."  
  
Goten paled at the green male's words. "How--how did you know?" he asked.  
  
The smirk grew a little wider. It was nice to see Goten squirming a bit though not too uncomfortably. He looked rather charming like that. Perhaps he should continue to put the youth on the spot. Goten seemed to be his actual age when he looked confused or worried. "I can always sense your presence, Goten," Piccolo stated.  
  
Goten flushed at that. What was he supposed to say to that? But then, he thought about it for a moment longer, and he paled again.  
  
"You-you-you... You can -what-?!" Piccolo had known all along! The younger man was positively mortified. Was he mocking him? Was he making fun of him by pointing out that he'd known? Maybe. But maybe not. The smirk was one of amusement, not mockery. A tiny bud of hope grew inside Goten. Piccolo had known... and still took him to the infirmary, still wanted to talk to him. Was there a chance for him?  
  
"Sense your presence," the tall male repeated softly, almost like a dark whisper in the forgotten garden. He stepped closer, impossibly closer, almost touching the younger male. "I know when you're near. Your energy is familiar enough to me that I can sense it and define it as yours."  
  
"That's some trick," the demi-saiyajin commented thickly. His eyes were large, round pools, shimmering in the dim light of the garden. He took a reflexive step back, and ran up against an unyielding plant. Flowers fell into his hair, and he absently noticed that they were of the same kind that he had picked the night before. His eyes scanned the aggressive male from head to feet back up again.  
  
"Maybe you'll learn it someday," the visiting warrior encouraged. Piccolo was having way too much fun, more fun than this little exchange really called for. He took another step forward, stopping when the flowers brushed up against his turban. All he was doing was pretending to be menacing, well, not really pretending, but it was having the desired effect. He gazed down on Goten's face, letting his eyes linger on Goten's mouth as the smaller male licked his lips.  
  
"You would teach me?" Goten asked, very proud that he didn't squeak, though it did come out a bit too breathy. He wished he could be commanding right about now. Demand that Piccolo teach him.... He flushed deep crimson at what he just asked, but... Gods, why was all of his blood rushing -away- from his brain when he needed it the most? Why was it deciding to pool in one part of his anatomy that he really, really didn't need to concentrate on?  
  
Piccolo looked on as heartbeat by rapid heartbeat Goten's breathing turned a bit more ragged, his harsh pants turning just a bit more jagged. He wondered what Goten sounded like during sex if the young prince got this worked up by just this; but he pushed that wayward thought to some part of his back brain, someplace where he knew it wouldn't leave him, but it wouldn't present itself until he was alone to think about it.  
  
Goten could feel his heart pounding in his chest like a caged slave desperate to get out. He took deep breaths, cursing mentally as all he could smell was the after flavors of the tank's aroma. His shaking caused more of the flowers to fall onto him, drifting down a lot slower than anything had the right to move. His eyes never left Piccolo, though. He couldn't take his eyes off of the larger male, but he was allowed to skim down the form in front of him. Of course, doing so had the small problem of letting his eyes focus on -other- parts of the man.  
  
"Perhaps," Piccolo replied in a mimicry of what he had told Gohan earlier, yet his seductive tone of voice implied a completely different answer this time.  
  
"I bet there's a lot you could teach me," Goten said as he tried to get his mind to think. Unfortunately, all he could think about was how the sheets he had woken up in looked a lot like Piccolo's cape. His eyes focused on that and wondered what would happen if he reached out and touched the stuff. More importantly, what would it be like to be wrapped up in the material... and nothing else? His tail lashed out behind him in agitation.  
  
"Maybe you'll get a chance to find that out," Piccolo replied huskily, enjoying the sight of Goten's eyes widening just a fraction more as he deepened his voice. The younger man's eyes were almost completely black, the pupils had dilated so much. And it seemed that the prince's brown tail was highly uncontrollable at present time. He made sure to take more care in the way the appendage moved from now on, as they seemed to say something.  
  
Goten nearly choked, thinking that the taller male had been reading his mind and heard his thoughts, but then he realized it was just an answer to the previous statement. He doubted his skin would ever return to its natural color, especially as he caught Piccolo staring at his tail. Gods, he thought he'd die right there, pressed up against a tree with flowers in his hair! "I'd love to."  
  
"You could use a little whipping into shape," Piccolo said, shifting his stance a bit, looming over the other. Goten had no place to run, but it didn't matter. Piccolo couldn't advance any more without being completely on top of the younger prince. Though, a part of him said that that wasn't such a bad idea. Again, Piccolo shoved the thought to the back of his mind along with the others of its ilk.  
  
"Are you that good?" Goten asked. He didn't know why he was asking that, and didn't even know what it was in reference to. Was it fighting? Or something equally as carnal but ultimately more... different? He needed air. He needed water. He needed... to get a grip on his self control. He really needed a cold shower. Something with ice cubes in it, because that was about the only way he was going to calm down tonight, without touching himself. And the few times in his past that he -had- masturbated, it always left him feeling... disgusted with himself. He didn't want that... not after this.  
  
"Possibly," Piccolo murmured, leaning, ever so slightly bending towards the other, but not so much that it was overtly noticeable. He noticed that the tail had stopped moving, curling up around the tree behind the young prince as if it were a lifeline, and the only thing keeping him together. Piccolo could understand that. He was not completely immune to the game they were playing. He was just better at controlling himself. Controlling the situation. He wasn't a mind reader, but he understood how to control others to a degree. "But you'd have to judge for yourself... if we get that far."  
  
"Whatever it takes," Goten whispered. Gods, he wanted to kiss the other male. He wanted to just lean against the large expanse of green chest, and drag Piccolo down for a long, hungry kiss. The kind of kiss he'd seen his father give Bulma a few times. The kind that he had seen some of the lesser household share between mates. He would be willing to sell the secrets of the family treasury if he could just... 'Gods!'  
  
Piccolo knew he had to stop soon, though he was loathe to do so. Goten looked so flushed, so expectant. Dark, glazed eyes flickered all around, so Piccolo recaptured the prince's attention. Pushing away from the younger male, Piccolo gave Goten space to breathe. "But you still need to work on getting what you want first."  
  
"I understand," the prince replied softly. He watched as the taller man moved away, regretting the space and wishing to close it again. Goten stepped forward as Piccolo retreated. He wished he was able to actually smell the other male. Remembering the tank also brought other things to mind. He shuffled his feet a little, unwittingly reminding Piccolo of the Goten from his world. Goten had something on his mind, something to test whether or not he should even try to get everything he wanted. But how to word it properly... "Can I ask you something?"  
  
"You may ask me anything you wish, but I may not always answer it," stated the green man, echoing the tones of just a moment before, but on a much less... intimidating scale.  
  
"Do you hold my brother, Prince Gohan, in high regards?" He had to know. This was one question, one of many, that Goten needed to know before he got his hopes up any higher than they already were. His blood returned to his head, but only so that it could pulse in his ears. His mind still wasn't working right.  
  
For the first time, Piccolo appeared apprehensive to the youngest demi- saiyajin. It wasn't terribly obvious, no, but he could still see the clenching of his jaw and the flash in his eyes. Piccolo replied diplomatically, "It would be treasonous for me to answer that question."  
  
"I didn't ask if you were loyal to him, just if you liked him," Goten pointed out. "And I swear to you that I would keep the answer to myself, and we would never speak of it again."  
  
"Why do you want to know?" Piccolo inquired back, eyes slightly narrowed.  
  
Goten chewed lightly on his lower lip. "I--I was injured at the arena, but not deaf. I heard how you spoke to him. Few people rarely have such confidence. Actually, none, now that I think about it."  
  
The confident smirk returned. Goten held his stance as the larger, more powerful warrior stalked towards him. Bending forward, Piccolo placed his mouth very near to the demi-saiyajin's ear. "Not particularly, no," he answered. "I don't... like him."  
  
Pulling back, the tall man noticed how flushed Goten's face was, how he trembled very slightly. He could see the rapid pulse beating in Goten's throat. It was rather flattering to have such an effect on the young man, something that had only happened in one other person. That was long ago, and a different person. Which reminded him, "In fact, it was partially the reason why I escorted you to the infirmary. I did not wish to spend any more time in his presence."  
  
Goten's heart sank. "Oh. So I was just an excuse."  
  
"Partially. But I do not mind your company. As long as I can -see- you." The smirk intensified, becoming smug, on Piccolo's face. There was no going back. Both in time and it seemed in space. But there was a chance to move forward. "If you have nothing better to do during the day than follow me, I suggest you just join me. I don't need another shadow."  
  
"All right," Goten nodded, a small smile curving into place. "I can do that."  
  
They stood mere inches apart, a comfortable silence extending between them. 'It's strange to be content just gazing at someone without saying anything,' the demi-saiyajin thought. 'Just peculiar.' But all too soon, the silence was broken by approaching footsteps. The smile disappeared from Goten's face immediately when he saw Android 17 poke his head into the garden.  
  
"Here you are," announced the raven-haired man. His usually perfect hair was mussed and disheveled, and his clothes were torn and a bit bloodied. Gohan must have given him quite the sparring match. "I've been looking for you for well over an hour."  
  
"We had matters to discuss," replied the tall, green male. He walked towards 17 and motioned for Goten to come with him. "Prince Goten will be joining us today."  
  
"Of course," 17 said, bowing slightly. He moved out of the archway and headed down the hall with Piccolo and Goten just behind him. His head was tilted at a slight angle so that he could listen to whatever might transpire between the two. The dark-haired guard was curious as to why Piccolo would help the young prince, and why would he want to make -friends- with him, too. It made no sense to him. But... perhaps it would become clearer soon. He would tell Trunks of what happened, and perhaps the lavender demi-saiyajin might have a few more answers.  
  
A small smile crept onto Goten's face. He had actually been invited to accompany Piccolo. His heart continued to pound in his chest, but it was now of a different beat. He had hope. 


	8. Lessons

Disclaimer: Summer doesn't own DBZ. I, Deani, don't own DBZ. That is so below average. It's a sad, sad day when animation can't be as gay as it wants to. Oh, wait. That channel with the rodent ears is still around, right? Proof gayness is still plentiful. By the way, thanks to those of you who have reviewed. Means a lot. And for those of you who aren't reviewing, come talk to me. This story is supposed to be good, but we won't know where to fix it if y'all don't help. Seriously. Review. We're not just writing this to get a hand cramp, you know.  
  
Warnings: It's all about the gayness. I mean, um... Heh. This story is yaoi and, therefore, contains same sex relations. There's also angst, sap, weirdness, the whole she-bang. Consider yourself warned.  
  
Kingdom Come ~ Chapter 08  
  
The royal palace was quiet, but there was still the undercurrent of life that said the living still dominated the building. The hushed murmurs of voices drifted through the air as they spoke over the trans-galactic comm- stations to families that never saw the Lord's home. There was the hum of distant machinery, the life's blood of the stone and glass structure. All of it was white noise, tuned out by the palace residents as too common to be of interest.  
  
Goten walked to his room, the walkway long deserted. It was well past curfew. In fact, the night was almost over. The prince released a large yawn, so tired it felt like sand was in his eyes. He pulled up to a stop as he passed a darkened hallway, not sure if he was hearing things or not. He thought that he heard soft mewling sounds of pain, as if some animal had crawled into the palace to die. He turned to look in the direction of his room, wanting to go to bed... but he went ahead down the hallway to investigate.  
  
His tail whipped through the air before encircling his waist calmly. He had been spending a great deal of his days with Piccolo and his troupe of humans and guards. Amazing how even the androids seemed to follow him, even without meaning to, Goten mused. He shook his head. It was probably because Piccolo was simply so commanding. The demi-saiyajin had taken to comparing the green visitor to a storm over the past few days he had been spending time with him.  
  
Before he could go further into that train of thought, Goten rounded a corner and came upon what, or rather who, was whimpering in pain. Goten curled his lip as the stench of fear and tears and sex assaulted his senses. Trunks lay bare in a puddle of blood and other body fluids. His clothes were torn and scattered around the hallway. A low growl of displeasure echoed in the darkness. This was just vulgar. The prince looked around, trying to find any kind of loose clothing, but none could be seen. He looked back down at the naked male lying on the ground.  
  
Goten knelt down, his knee falling into the bloody puddle and staining the pants. He reached out his hand to brush Trunks' long hair out of his face, trying to get a look at the lavender haired youth's face. Trunks screamed, or at least tried, but it came out as a rather harsh choking sound. The bloody demi-saiyajin tried to move away, but his broken body refused to listen. Goten closed his eyes, pushing the strange new sensation of concern away. He brought forth his colder side, his detachment. It was what was needed to deal with something as grotesque as this.  
  
As gingerly as he could, he picked up Trunks and turned to take him... 'Where?' He could take Trunks to Bulma, but she was well across the Palace. And she could only care for him with the resources she had on hand, not allowed to have Zarbon leave her at night. He could try to take him the to the medical wing, but with the standing orders to allow anyone or anything to use Trunks however they saw fit, no one would willingly treat the long- haired demi-saiyajin. Of course there was always 17. There were stories of how the android would sometimes 'find' Trunks and 'take care' of him for weeks at a time, asking for leave to take the lavender youth away from the palace. He wasn't sure what to make of it, but it was the best bet that was close at hand. The android's room was close by. But 17 was on guard duty. Guarding Piccolo... 'How to get around that...'  
  
Getting into the room was no problem. Goten was not only a prince, but he was also the Royal Inquisitor. There was no door in the entire palace that he could not get past. Including his father's. Goten stepped into the room, Trunks still and almost lifeless in his arms. He looked at the bed, but decided the bathroom was probably a better bed. He laid Trunks down on the tiled floors of the showering room and then vacated the area. He knew how to inflict pain, and knew that Trunks would have to trust his doctor in order to heal. And he knew Trunks did not trust him.  
  
Goten hurried down to the visitor's area, knowing the route without even thinking about it. It wasn't until he was just about to round the corner that he slowed down to a more stately pace. That was also when he realized how bloody his own clothes were. Giving a mental wince, he blanked his face to the three guards standing nearby.  
  
Captain Ginyu took one look at the stained clothes of the prince and visibly blanched. He was a warrior, true, but he was more for outright killing his opponents. Goten was not. He dealt in matters far more sinister and terrifying that death. He dealt in torture.  
  
On the other hand, 18 merely eyed him curiously, obviously wondering who was the latest fool to find himself in the youngest demi-saiyajin's clutches. He grinned at her, smiling as sweetly as he could while keeping his eyes blank and lifeless. Like a doll. Like a puppet. Like the perfect tool. Like they both were. She turned her attention back to the wall across from her, knowing it was none of her business and not wanting to press her luck with the very dangerous prince.  
  
Goten walked calmly over to 17. The raven-haired android looked at the prince, wondering what was going on, but said nothing. However, he held his ground. "Yes, your majesty?"  
  
"I need to talk with Piccolo. Come and enter with me," Goten said carefully. His eyes flashed lightly in the darkened space.  
  
17 merely nodded, his body half turned to open the door even as Goten reached around him and manually did it himself.  
  
As he'd heard the voices, Piccolo rose from his resting position on the bed, his bare feet hitting the cold floor soundlessly. The door to his room slid open, and a bloodied Goten entered with 17 right behind him, door shutting as soon as the android was inside. "What's going on?" Piccolo asked. "What happened to you, Goten?"  
  
"More to the point, what has happened to Trunks." Goten said as he turned to look at 17, trying not to notice that Piccolo only had on a pair of purple pants. His tail wrapped protectively around him, holding him safe against the churning emotions and thoughts in his head. After a moment of thought, he really didn't know why he was doing this. He had seen worse. He had -done- worse, really. But... the sounds of Trunks mewling in pain still resounded in his ears, and he knew he couldn't just leave the other behind.  
  
"What's happened?" Piccolo and 17 asked at the same time. They shared a look between them, but it wasn't an unfriendly one. It was more of mutual concern and respect for the other's concern.  
  
"Did you bandage him up?" 17 inquired, his usual cool, levelheaded voice sounding just a slight bit off, something for which he cursed himself. If Trunks knew just how important Trunks was to him... The purple demi- saiyajin was a weakness, but one that 17 acknowledged. He didn't trust that Goten had changed. He had shared his concerns with Piccolo, and apparently the green warrior was taking them to heart. Which was a good thing. One could never be too careful.  
  
"No. I did not. He does not want me to touch him," Goten replied. Sighing, he looked down to the ground in desperation. How was he to make them understand?  
  
"He needs to be seen to, then," Piccolo said, his deep voice penetrating the mounting tension as easily as thunder in the night.  
  
"I know that!" Goten snapped, having yet to fall asleep and it was closing on dawn already. "And here's my plan. First, 17, you leave here, as if you've been dismissed for the day. Go to your room and tend to him. I'll stay here and act as your replacement, at least until the shift changes. You'll have to be here for your next shift, though."  
  
"What?" the android asked, not really believing he had heard right. Prince Goten was going to take over guard duty for a while? He didn't want to argue it, but it made him think...  
  
"You heard me. Go!" Goten shouted, loud enough that the two guards still out in the hallway would hear it, though it would be a muted shout to them. He stood framed by the doorway for the other two guards to see him as 17 left. The door slid shut with a soft hiss. The prince released a sigh, turning to look at Piccolo once again, flushing at the proximity and location. "So, how come you're so awake? Weren't you asleep before I came in?"  
  
"I don't require much sleep," Piccolo answered, folding his arms across his bare chest. Normally, others would have been put on the spot at a situation such as this. He was half nude, late at night, in his room, with someone he knew wanted him in a sexual manner. But Piccolo was more concerned with Trunks' safety than he was with his own. He, after all, could take care of himself. "I was merely resting."  
  
"Oh, I see," Goten nodded. He looked around, and noticed that the bed was still mostly made. And it looked really inviting. He imagined the pillows and sheets were saturated with Piccolo's smell. Where he was sorry that the rejuvenation tank's stench had cleared his senses, he was now very pleased. He was actually able to smell Piccolo's light scent in the room, filling the place like lightly flavored water.  
  
Piccolo tilted his head to the side as he looked over Goten's blood stained clothes again. Could those stains have been caused during an attack or as an after effect of a rescue, as he claimed? "Do you know what happened to Trunks?"  
  
"Not really, no," the demi-saiyajin stated. His arms crossed defensively over his chest and his tail tightened a bit in its grip. He hated giving oral reports. "His clothes were shredded. There was more blood than I'd care to see again. I think... I don't know, but... It's possible he was also sexually assaulted. It's likely, actually. From what I understand, that isn't an uncommon occurrence for him."  
  
"Those are quite a few details, Goten," Piccolo said as his eyes narrowed dangerously. His voice had also dropped to a softer, deadlier tone. Could all the previous admissions have been a lie? Could Goten not have changed as much as he had hoped? Piccolo was suspicious, more so since this was Trunks they were talking about. He had promised to keep the demi-saiyajin safe!  
  
"I'm observant. It's what I do," Goten replied, noticing Piccolo's reaction. He shifted into a fighting stance automatically, unconsciously. He was tired, but he was quickly picking up his adrenaline rush from before, and waking up again. He knew, though, that when, not if, the adrenaline crash came afterward, he'd be next to worthless.  
  
"Are you certain that you don't know anything more?" Piccolo asked, noticing the change in Goten's stance. Why would he take on a fighting stance if he were innocent?  
  
"What do you mean?" Goten asked cautiously. But then, something in his adrenaline fogged mind clicked a sleepy fact and a hyper fact together. Goten's tail unwound itself to snap in the air with shock and anger. Incredulous, his voice rose with indignation as he began to defend himself, "What-- Wait. You--you think I did this. You think that I could -do- this? After what I told you -- things I've never even felt before -- and you still think I would do this? After everything I said, and everything I've -done- for you, you think I would attack him like that?"  
  
"It is not unfeasible, considering how I found you the first time," Piccolo stated calmly, ignoring but taking note of what Goten was saying. All of what Goten was saying. He glanced at the door to silently warn the prince. He did not need the other two guards to come rushing into the room to defend him... or to defend the prince. That would just cause too many complications.  
  
"I would -never-. Never! That is -not- how I operate, not even before our confrontation," Goten hissed, acknowledging the need for lowered voices. His cheeks were flushed, part from anger, part from shame. He had thought that Piccolo trusted him! He had tried his best, after all. He had done everything that the larger warrior asked, even changed who he was to fit what Piccolo seemed to say he wanted. And this was how he was rewarded?! He buried his fear and embarrassment in anger. He was used to dealing with anger. The other, newer and more foreign emotions could just be pushed away, killed by his rage.  
  
"How should I know that?" Piccolo countered. This was somewhat odd. If the prince was acting, then he had an amazing ability. There was such an indignant innocence to Goten's stance, to what he was saying. Piccolo also took notice of the way his tail snapped through the air before briefly re- wrapping around his middle, ready to go into battle if needed. Goten knew he'd get his ass handed to him, again, but he was so outraged by the accusations that he was ready to fight. Wouldn't a guilty person be a bit more manipulative?  
  
"Because it's the truth! I used to torture, to maim. To cause pain, not death," Goten explained, raising his voice harshly before continuing on in a quieter voice. He pulled himself up to his full height, willing his tail to curl up behind him. He would make it through this. He would. His adrenaline told him he would. He glared at the other male as he informed him of a few basic facts that still grated on his nerves, as they were the cause of a great deal of teasing his family plagued him with. "And I have never in my entire -life- forced myself on another person! I have never even -been- with another person in that way."  
  
"Never...?" Piccolo asked, surprised. He pulled back sharply. This explained a lot. Such as his reaction in the garden the other night. He had seemed so flushed and expectant and restrained. 'No wonder. He -is- restrained!' It also helped to explain why he was seen as the crueler of the two, the more subtly dangerous. He had learned one thing about the saiyajins here, and that was that they tended to pay close attention to their passions. From what he and the others gathered, they favored two places: the ring and the bed. The ones that were mocked, such as Nappa and Vegeta, were treated as such because they did not enjoy both forms of... entertainment. Goten seemed to take out his frustrations in his job rather than actually slaking whatever lusts he had.  
  
"-Never-," Goten repeated, still livid. He failed to miss Piccolo backing down, so lost was he in his righteous anger. "But what does it matter to you? You don't believe me. You think I'm still bullying Trunks, and on top of that, now you think I'm a rapist. Well, I am not my father or my brother. I do -not- force myself on others. That's not who I am. I have never been that way. I never will."  
  
"So, tell me. Say it. Tell me you didn't do this to Trunks," Piccolo demanded. He had to hear it. He didn't know why, but he had to hear Goten actually say it. It was probably something that Goku taught him, few as those things were.  
  
"I didn't. I swear to you. I didn't hurt him," Goten said, calming. He fell out of his stance, crossing his arms again. He shifted to the side so that he could glare at the other man. With just a trace of heat, he said softly, "For the gods' sakes, I'm trying to -save- him here!"  
  
"I believe you," Piccolo stated simply, letting his otherwise piercing gaze fall away even as he physically visibly relaxed.  
  
"You do?" Goten asked curiously, his anger evaporating with the acceptance. He inhaled then exhaled deeply. Strange as it was, the demi-saiyajin found that none of his anger remained, and that he even -forgave- Piccolo for doubting him. It was reasonable, after all.  
  
"Yes. I won't lie; I did doubt you at first. But I believe you now," Piccolo admitted. He smiled slightly, feeling the tension leave the room like water down a drain.  
  
"Thank you, Piccolo," Goten answered, a small grin appearing on his face as well. He yawned, then, his adrenaline seeping away to leave him as strong as chewing gum.  
  
Piccolo turned to offer his bed to the young prince, but Goten went and leaned back against the wall. He clicked on his scouter, something that most of the palace residents were never without, something that seemed to be so much a part of who these alters were so that they went as unnoticed as natural hair color. He read the time out loud, and how much time it was going to be until the guard shifted.  
  
"Why are you waiting?" Piccolo asked. It was obvious that Goten was beyond exhausted, and yet the demi-saiyajin waited, as if he had to. As if he were honor bound to do so.  
  
"Because, I'm in here alone, and covered in blood. I can't leave you without a guard, so I'd have to call 17 back if I left right now. This way, I'll leave you with a guard, and that guard will only see me leaving all bloody and know that I dismissed 17 for that purpose. He'll assume I was in here hurting you -- not that I'd want to or like I would have a chance in hell, but they don't know that -- so they'll not become too curious to why 17 was dismissed," Goten explained. He looked Piccolo over, noticing the antenna again. He had noticed them before, while the green man had bathed, but he hadn't paid much attention to them. Now he did. "So, you're not from earth, are you."  
  
Piccolo thought a moment on how to answer that. He may trust that Goten did not harm Trunks, but he was not going to bare his soul to the other just yet. He wasn't sure if the Nameks had been found, or if they were even still alive. He did not want to give their location or secrets away. "I was born on Earth, though the sire of my sire was not."  
  
"Where are you from?" Goten asked, curious. He wondered what the small appendages felt like, and if they were as sensitive as other parts of anatomy. How many nerve endings were there? Did they feel pain? Cold? Heat? Pleasure? Questions upon more questions, and no answers in sight.  
  
"I have no true home," Piccolo replied, which was almost true, yet not quite the answer to Goten's question. He had places to stay, but he did not consider any of them a home. The closest he could call home was Kami Dende's Lookout, which was not as it used to be.  
  
"What about family?" Goten asked, even more intrigued. How could someone live without a home?  
  
"I have a family, of sorts. I have a friend, but over time we have found that our lives are, or rather, were carrying us in different directions. He is married now. A father. He is a good man, and a strong fighter. I know that in my absence, he is carrying on and defending our home," Piccolo replied, a small smile settling into place.  
  
Goten saw the smile, and took note of how it was filled with pride, and warmth, and... something else. Something he could not remember seeing on any one else's face, except maybe Bulma's when she looked at her son. Yes, that was the look completely. That of someone who loved someone else, completely and without reservations. It made something in Goten's throat tighten painfully, but he pushed passed it. 'Would Piccolo ever look at me like that? It would be nice, I think. Very nice.'  
  
They spent a good deal of time simply talking. They spoke of food, which Goten loved to talk about. He laughed at the fact that Piccolo knew more ways to cook fish than he knew of vegetables. And they talked about Trunks, and about palace life and how it affected everyone even on the most distant planets. Soon, sooner than either thought possible, Goten's timer went off. The guards should be shifting outside. Sighing, Goten pushed off the wall and straightened his clothes.  
  
"I bid you good night, Demon Lord," Goten said as he gave a very formal bow. He did not think that Piccolo knew the significance of the gesture, but the green man surprised him by returning the bow, dipping to the same angle of respect.  
  
"Sleep well, Prince," Piccolo replied. Goten genuinely smiled, something full of youth and life. But then he shut down, his eyes going vacant and deadly. His mask slipped seamlessly into place once more, like water washing over marble. He turned on his heal and walked to the door, which slid open easily, quietly.  
  
Gamma and Theta jumped as Goten exited the room. As Gamma was Piccolo's replacement guard, he automatically stepped aside to allow the prince to leave. Sigma visibly blanched at the sight of the royal prince covered in so much blood. Goten merely snorted at their responses and proceeded to walk down the hall, his gait slow and leisurely as if he had satiated his bloodlust in a quiet, dangerous fight.  
  
Theta and Sigma looked at each other, wondering if their charges were even alive. There had been so much blood on the prince. Gamma made sure the door was closed and kept his back to it. His pallor, though, was duller than its normal shine. The three remained silent for a short time, just long enough for Goten to get to the intersection of hallways. But as soon as it was safe, Sigma was the first to break. He opened the door to Krillin's room and sighed in audible, almost touchable relief as light spilled over Krillin's sleeping form like another blanket. Theta merely smirked at the other, but went looking into Yamcha's room not two heartbeats later.  
  
Unfortunately for Theta, Yamcha wasn't there.  
  
***  
  
Yamcha sighed in contentment. He was aware that though things seemed to be perfect, there was something off. He rolled onto his other side, smiling slightly as he felt arms around his middle tighten to bring him closer. He smiled as he felt someone nuzzle his neck. This was nice. This was very nice.  
  
He blinked open his eyes slowly, not really wanting to wake up, but his internal alarm clock was telling him he had already overslept. He frowned as he realized he was almost on his back with Vegeta half over him. He looked around the room, towards the door, and realized with a start that he had overslept. He sat upright with such suddenness that Vegeta was almost thrown off the bed.  
  
Vegeta woke up instantly, his tail lashing as he fell into an all too familiar fighting stance, one he could attain even if he -were- still asleep. "What? What's wrong?"  
  
"Trunks isn't here," Yamcha said as he climbed out of bed. "I think he's late."  
  
"You woke me up because you -think- he's late?" Vegeta asked, one eyebrow raised in amusement. "Before you become sick with worry, why not check the time."  
  
"How? I didn't bring a watch!" Yamcha replied sharply. If he were caught outside of his room after curfew, well, he didn't think it would ingratiate him or the others with anyone. "Oh man, I knew this was too good to last..."  
  
"Huh?" Vegeta asked as he reached under his bed for his scouter. But Yamcha wasn't paying any attention, simply staring at the door as if he were thinking how much -more- trouble would he get into if he were to blow it away. Vegeta shook his head and wished him the best of luck, since he knew he couldn't make a dent in the damned thing. And it wasn't for lack of trying, either. Placing the scouter over his eye, he clicked it on. He let out a soft curse that brought his eyes up to meet Yamcha's worried expression. "You're right. It is late. Or rather, early morning."  
  
"Yeah, I figured as much." Yamcha said. Frantically, he rubbed his hands over his face, as if he could simply wash away the living nightmare that way. "Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn. This is bad. This is very bad."  
  
Vegeta would have liked to deny it, but it was rather pointless. He knew it, just as Yamcha did. They were going to be in -SO- much trouble! He just hoped that he wouldn't have to be punished by Prince Gohan again. The last time he had done something to upset the prince... it had been so horrible that his mind still drew a blank for those hours spent under his care, though sometimes flashes of memories would awaken him in cold sweats. He knew only that he woke up screaming for it to stop, whatever it was, and that he woke up begging Prince Gohan to stop, to make it end. It was not something he was proud of. And it was not something he thought he would want to remember anyway.  
  
The shorter male sat on his bed, his tail curled up behind him. He watched as Yamcha began to panic. With a muffled laugh, he shook his head. "Yamcha, come over here."  
  
"Huh?" Yamcha asked as his adrenaline began to kick in. The door didn't look like it would offer much of a challenge, but then, looks could be deceiving, especially in this place.  
  
"There is nothing you can do right now, so why not come over here. I'll start teaching you the song," Vegeta smiled. He was enjoying himself, or was going to try to as long as he could. He thought that he was going to die soon, after all.  
  
Sighing in defeat, Yamcha nodded his head. He walked over to Vegeta's bed and sat down on the edge. Slowly, painstakingly, Vegeta began to croon the song over again. Yamcha, who had no ear for language, was simply instructed to repeat the tones and inflections and syllables. This, he found, he could do.  
  
They made it through half the song, retracing from the first note forward until Yamcha got each piece just right. Vegeta was still sitting right behind Yamcha, his arms wrapped around the other's shoulders, and his knees straddling the human from behind. It was a very suggestive position, and it was playing hell with Vegeta's mentality, but he was determined to see this through till the end. Vegeta closed his eyes after a moment, counting to a hundred in three different languages before he allowed himself to continue on. He wanted to grind his hips forward. He wanted to bury his head in the curve of the scarred warrior's neck.  
  
But what he did was continue on with the lesson.  
  
The short saiyajin warrior was midway through the second half of the song when the door to his room hissed open. Both blinked as the hallway light spilled into the room, silhouetting two figures. Vegeta froze. Yamcha stood up before the doors were completely opened, but he knew he was trapped. Or rather, he knew that he could get out, but not without causing a lot more trouble for himself and everyone involved. So, Yamcha stood his ground.  
  
"So. This is where you ran off to," a familiar voice called out. Goten walked into the room, Theta right behind him. Their two scouters shimmered and then dulled as they passed from the light into the somewhat more shadowed room. "We were beginning to worry."  
  
"I've been safe," Yamcha replied. He stood between the approaching two men and Vegeta, something he never really thought he'd ever be doing.  
  
"There is no safe place here," Goten said softly, looking at Vegeta. "How long has he been here?"  
  
"All night, your Majesty," Vegeta answered, his eyes downcast.  
  
"Hmm," Goten murmured. Everyone heard Theta's sigh of relief, but no one acknowledged it. "Theta, escort these two to the main hall. I will call others to meet us there."  
  
Goten marched out of the room, his tail snapping the air behind him before wrapping gingerly around his waist. Yamcha noticed he moved a bit slower than normal, but it was fast enough to get things done while still being scary. Yamcha glanced at Theta, and then glanced back at Vegeta who was tugging on a shirt and then shoes. They ran their hands through their hair before following the guard into the hallway.  
  
Yamcha glanced over at Vegeta as they walked, but the short saiyajin was adjusting his own scouter. Yamcha sighed, but then smiled slightly as a furry tail nudged his wrist. The human slid a glance over to the shorter male, passing a light smile. Together, they went toward what they both thought was certain doom, but they did it with a smile.  
  
***  
  
Krillin trudged behind Piccolo and the guards down the corridor. They'd all been summoned to the main hall, which Krillin had learned was that big room in which they had first met everyone. His shaven head was itching slightly, he assumed mostly due to what was about to occur. 'Oh, man,' he thought to himself. 'I knew this was a bad idea. I can't believe Yamcha got caught! How could he be so stupid?! And why'd he have to go visit Vegeta anyway? It's not like they're friends, right? Oh, man. This sucks so much.'  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see 18's profile. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and she appeared utterly indifferent to what was going on. He thought that after all morning of being forced to keep guard outside his room while he was asked to remain inside, she would be somewhat content to walk around. But she obviously wasn't. On the other side of Piccolo, 17 did not look thrilled either. He walked as he normally did, his recently tied ponytail swaying ever so gently as he walked. Krillin knew they knew what was going on, but he didn't know if he should ask or not.  
  
Once they'd entered the hall, the short human had expected throngs of people around, as there had been upon their arrival. As it stood, there were only a very few people in attendance. The two princes stood at the front of the room, in front of the throne, neither making a move to sit upon it. Krillin blanched at seeing Goten's clothes covered in bloody stains. Other than them, it was just himself, Piccolo, Yamcha, and their guards, including Captain Ginyu. However, Ginyu, Yamcha, and Vegeta all stood before the princes; the rest of them were almost mere spectators.  
  
A chill ran down Krillin's spine. 'No witnesses,' he remarked in his head. 'I don't like the looks of this. This is bad. Really bad. I mean, look at Ginyu! He's about to wet himself!' A small smirk nearly made it onto the short man's face, despite the situation. 'Serves him right. Heh. Dumbass.'  
  
The eldest demi-saiyajin kept his eyes focused on the incoming visitors and their guards but bent slightly towards his brother. Whispering, he remarked, "Man, you look horrible, Goten. Early morning?"  
  
"More like late night," Goten responded just as softly. When his older brother raised an inquisitive eyebrow at him, he explained. "Work."  
  
"Ah, that explains the blood then," Gohan nodded. Raising his voice to a much louder, more commanding tone, he announced, "Well, I see we're all present and accounted for. Good. We can proceed with the inquisition."  
  
It was strange to the tiny human all the little things that seemed to be going on as the elder prince spoke. Eyes flitted from person to person, odd looks were exchanged, and more than one person seemed highly uncomfortable with being present. Even he couldn't stop glancing at everyone, gauging reactions and interpreting body language. For one, Gohan's tail didn't stop dancing behind him, giving away how much the prince was enjoying the proceedings. 'What a dick.'  
  
"First, let's determine culpability, shall we? Now," Gohan began, "would someone like to explain to me just what the hell has happened here? Anyone? Anyone at all?" When no one answered, he raised a hand towards the group before him, a bright ball of ki growing there. "Someone answer me -now-," he demanded, "or you'll all die."  
  
Krillin's eyes bulged slightly. 'He's trying to kill us! That bastard! I wish Goku were here to give him a good spanking. But not Lord Crapperot. He'd -let- him. Kami, it sucks here.'  
  
"The human just visited me last night," Vegeta suddenly said. Krillin was surprised by the announcement -- or rather, that Vegeta had spoken at all -- and so was almost everyone else. All eyes turned to Vegeta.  
  
The bald man's head bobbed imperceptibly, an impressed look on his face. "Wow! He is a really good liar. Very nice!'  
  
"Really." The prince's eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. "And how, might I ask, did he get there while under a guard's supervision and while you were under lock and key?"  
  
"I found my own way," Yamcha interjected, calling attention to himself and dragging it away from the shorter male.  
  
"Do tell," sneered Gohan.  
  
'Oh, crap.' The shorter human cast a glance at his friend. He really hoped Yamcha could be diplomatic and smooth here. Unfortunately, he wasn't sure the other man possessed the ability to be either of those things right then. But he -had- to appeal to the prince in some way. 'Come -on-, Yamcha!'  
  
"I found my replacement guard to be... incompetent," the scarred human stated. "Vegeta was, by far, more efficient and capable as a guard, and not as... inadequate and inattentive as his substitution. Therefore, I found a way to get around the replacement. It was quite easy, I assure you. Captain Ginyu guards poorly."  
  
'Where in Kami's name did he learn to talk like -that-? Who does he think he is, Piccolo? He must've been channeling someone, but I don't know who.' Krillin inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. 'Give a man a heart attack, why dontcha?! Sheesh!'  
  
A sardonic grin spread across Gohan's features. "Normally, I wouldn't really listen to anything a human had to say, but I'll make an exception in this case." His sharp, dark eyes landed on the tall, purple warrior, and his voice began to sour with increasing scorn. "I happen to agree with your assessment of our dear Captain Ginyu. He -is- incompetent."  
  
Krillin bit his cheeks trying not to laugh while watching the ridiculous guard fidgeting uncontrollably. 'He -so- going to piss himself, I just know it!' the human thought, still suppressing the laughter. 'Man, oh, man, this'd be so much fun if I didn't think Gohan was gonna kill us all.'  
  
Krillin turned to see Goten move to stand somewhat in front of the older prince, stepping onto a lower step, whispering softly. The short human was unable to hear what was being said, or to read the lips. However, he was pretty sure he heard a single word. 'Punishment? Who're they gonna punish? Kami, I hope it's not Yamcha. Dammit. I am -so- not in the mood to get my ass stomped in today.' The short man steadied himself in case he had to jump into a physical defense of his friend.  
  
"Too true, brother," Gohan answered as he waved the younger demi-saiyajin away. He turned back to address the others in the room. "Though there isn't much to go on in this case other than word-against-word, I believe we've established who is at fault in this situation." The prince's grin turned malicious. With so many teeth showing, Krillin thought he rather looked like a tiger preparing to pounce on its dinner. "Which, of course, brings us to the repercussions stage of this inquisition. So, who can tell me what the consequences are for failing to properly perform guard duty?"  
  
'Failing to perform guard duty?! So, wait. That means they're not blaming Yamcha? Holy crap!' Nearly face-faulting himself, the short human quickly looked around at the others to see if their faces were just as incredulous as his was.  
  
Piccolo's eyebrow merely twitched upward for a fraction of a second before his face resettled into its normal impassive mode. The androids, as well as Prince Goten, were as stone-faced as ever, like the news of one of their guard 'brethren' being blamed for Yamcha escaping was an everyday occurrence. Krillin craned his neck to try and see Vegeta's face; it remained grave. Yamcha looked a little more nervous than he was before, but Krillin nearly started laughing when his eyes finally rested on Captain Ginyu.  
  
The man was literally shaking in his boots. And liquid was pooling at his feet.  
  
Goten sighed heavily, mumbling just loud enough for Krillin to catch, "We're going to have to have this room sterilized. Wonderful."  
  
"It's death," came the soft-spoken words from Vegeta's mouth.  
  
"That's right," Gohan smirked. "The charge is failure to perform duty. The penalty for the aforementioned allegation is death."  
  
'Oh, shit. Seriously?' Krillin's jaw snapped shut. If his face had been incredulous before, he had no idea what he'd call it now. 'Shocked out of my mind, maybe? He's gonna kill him! I mean, for real this time! Gohan's actually going to kill Ginyu! I can't believe it. Gee. Guess that guy wasn't meant to live in either of these dimensions.' A slightly wistful expression crossed his features. 'I wonder if there's a dimension where Ginyu's the supreme ruler of the universe.' He shuddered slightly, finding that thought to be highly repugnant. 'Kami, I hope not. Good thing we didn't end up there. I think that might be quite possibly one of the worst ideas ever. Other than, maybe, a universe without chocolate. At least they have -that- here.'  
  
"Now, I'm a fair magistrate," Gohan's eyes shifted sharply to his left as his brother snorted derisively, but he continued with barely a pause, "and I'd like to give the offender a sporting chance. So. Captain Ginyu. You have until the count of three to get away. And I'd hurry if I were you. I've been known to count a little fast on occasion."  
  
Sometimes, Krillin admired Piccolo's iron will, that will that allowed him to just stand there and not react to the imminent execution. The short man, on the other hand, was quaking where he stood. Sure, he didn't care for Captain Ginyu at all; in fact, he could almost say he hated the guy. But for failing guard duty? He was going to die for an accident? Then again, Krillin conceded, had it been the other way around, and Gohan had failed in guard duty, he was certain that Ginyu wouldn't have even given Gohan until the count of three. On top of that, the bald human still held a grudge against Ginyu for what had happened in their universe. 'Hmm. I wonder how they're going to kill him. McGinyu Kabobs? Eww. Kami, I hope it's something that won't smell up the place.'  
  
"One..."  
  
A bright ball of ki began glowing with increasing intensity in Gohan's palm. Captain Ginyu looked absolutely dumbfounded, whipping his head every which way as if seeking an escape route or possibly assistance. Krillin thought he appeared rather cartoonish with his eyes bugging and veins bulging. Plus, that puddle around his feet wasn't helping matters in the least.  
  
"You know," Gohan said, the energy attack still growing in his hand, "I'm not doing this simply for my own amusement, Ginyu, though it does amuse me. You failed in your duty. You have to pay the price. I'm giving you a far greater head start than I've given anyone else, so consider yourself extremely lucky. Two..."  
  
'Yap, yappity, yap, yap, yap. Kami, does he ever shut up?! It's like he loves to hear himself talk or something.' Krillin rolled his eyes slightly as the elder prince continued speaking. 'Jeez! The narcissism is stifling. Man, just kill him and get it over with already!'  
  
Finally, the tall, purple warrior took off into the air, obviously having decided to make a run at fleeing the scene. Unfortunately for him, he didn't even make it to the extremely high ceiling of the main hall. The ki ball had left Gohan's hand the moment Ginyu was out of range of the other fighters, and it disintegrated him on contact.  
  
"...Three."  
  
Ashes floated down from the clear air like morbid snowflakes. Krillin looked up, as did most of the others, as they drifted down to the ground. Some of the gray powdery substance drifted over to where Yamcha and Vegeta stood. Yamcha inhaled some of the ash, which caused him to sneeze. Krillin ducked a bit, covering his mouth with his dark blue gi top to avoid breathing in the remains. A light frown marred his small face when he looked back at Gohan. 'He didn't even get until 'three'. Cheater.'  
  
Prince Gohan clapped his hands together like he was dusting them off after a job well done. The smirk had never left Gohan's face, but grew more sinister as his eyes settled on Yamcha and Vegeta. "Well, that takes care of that. Now, what to do with the two of you..."  
  
Krillin looked over at Piccolo to judge the Namek's response, but the green warrior was acting as stoic as ever, watching the ashes drift to the ground. The only sign to give away his emotions was his eyebrow that was continuing to twitch. The tall male had his head tilted to the side, as if trying to hear what was going on up on the stage. The short human returned to looking at the two princes, noticing how Goten stood again at the lower step with his back turned to the crowd. His brown tail was wrapped around him, and was long enough to curl at his back. He noticed that Goten was murmuring softly, and that Gohan was slowly beginning to nod his head, a sick smile beginning to bloom. Krillin looked back to Piccolo, noticing the slight widening of eyes, as if he heard something shocking. But before Krillin had time to really ponder what was going on, Goten was brushed off to the side again to allow Prince Gohan to speak. Again.  
  
"It has come to my attention that perhaps it would be best to avoid a similar incidence in the future. Can't be killing all the guards while our Lord Kakarrot is away, you know. He'd come back and start asking ridiculous questions. So. Let's not waste any more time, shall we? Vegeta." Gohan smirked down at the shorter male, adjusting his armor almost as if he were preening. But Krillin saw that Gohan's eyes weren't on Vegeta, rather they were slyly fixated on Piccolo. Turning his head slightly, Krillin looked to see if the Namek noticed, and nearly face faulted when he realized that Piccolo did if his scowl was any indication.  
  
"Yes, your highness," Vegeta said as he knelt down on one knee with his head lowered and his tail wrapped so tightly around him that even Krillin thought it looked uncomfortable. The once proud saiyajin prince appeared so strange to the human in the position of meek vassal.  
  
"You are to be reassigned to your original position as guard for the human. He never tried to venture out on his own under your watch, so I imagine that he won't if you return to your post," Gohan announced with a hint of irony. The floor was so clean that Krillin was able to see Vegeta's small smile of satisfaction from where he stood, and he was by no means close to the saiyajin. Krillin looked up and saw Gohan toss a short glare at his brother, probably not happy about making Vegeta happy.  
  
Krillin moved only his eyes as he looked around the room. The two androids were still as expressionless as usual. Goten was as mute as ever, only his tail wrapped around his waist showing his state of mind, as if he did not trust anyone in the room. The brown appendage shook in its grip around the prince, which made Krillin realize that Goten was perhaps a bit nervous about what was going on. Gohan, on the other hand, seemed to revel in the carnage and the power he was wielding over them. Gohan was like a bull in a china shop, breaking everything and knowing he was responsible, and laughing as he danced on a broken Ming vase. Goten, conversely, was the one who directed him towards the china shop, pointing out which pieces were the most expensive and in what order he should run rampant through the shop but stayed out of the shop for the most part, if his earlier 'consultations' were any clue.  
  
'Huh,' Krillin mused. 'I wonder where their good ol' dad fits into this picture. Doesn't seem like they even need him around. Probably not a bad idea. The guy's a total jackass anyway.'  
  
"-However-, behavior like this in the future will -not- be tolerated, and we're willing to take whatever precautions are necessary to ensure that. Therefore, 17, 18, Vegeta, you will all be staying in the rooms with the guests at night. We'll, I don't know, have cots placed in the rooms or something," Gohan said, sounding somewhat irritated at having to actually plan that far ahead. He turned to his brother, as if demanding something, but all Goten could do was tilt his head to the side and glance at all the other, letting his gaze linger on Piccolo. Krillin saw the look that passed between the younger prince and the namek, but he didn't think that anyone else did. Yamcha and Vegeta were looking at the ground, or more specifically at their reflections and smiling at each other.  
  
Krillin frowned slightly, looking at Vegeta and Yamcha and then moving only his eyes to look at the two princes before looking at Piccolo. His gaze went back to the pair at the center of their little meeting. Krillin tilted his head slightly, trying to puzzle out something that seemed to be... off. That's when he saw Yamcha blush somewhat, as if he were a teenager again, stumbling over his words with Bulma! 'Oh my Kami! Yamcha and Vegeta! They're a couple!' Krillin thought to himself. His wide eyes went to Piccolo, who was staring at the princes again. Krillin had always known that Piccolo liked guys. It was probably because his race didn't even have different sexes, and he was born like that, but it didn't matter. Piccolo was one of the strongest warriors there ever was, and one of the most dangerous. 'Besides,' Krillin thought, 'it's not like he ever hit on me. But with the way the two princes keep glancing at him, you would think that they're both just itching to jump his bones! Dammit! Is everyone here gay?'  
  
Gohan smiled at Piccolo before turning his back on the crowd. He waved his hand in the air, as if there were flies in the air that were bothering his ears. "Oh, by the way, you're dismissed now."  
  
The short human watched the others with fascination as they dispersed. Piccolo and 17 apparently couldn't get away fast enough, but he couldn't tell where they were headed. Yamcha and Vegeta looked to be heading back to the guest quarters, and the two princes had disappeared before he even realized they were gone, leaving him and 18 alone in the main hall. He tried to smile politely at her. "Dinner?" he suggested.  
  
The blonde android merely raised one eyebrow then turned in the direction of the dining hall. As usual, Krillin just followed her. His last thought before Gohan had dismissed them still bounced around in his head. 'I wonder if 18 would know,' he thought. 'Sheesh, could I even ask her? Man, it's just killing me. I gotta know.' He stepped up his pace to walk beside 18, rather than follow a step or two behind her. "Hey, 18," he started. "Can I ask you a question about the princes and Vegeta?"  
  
"Go ahead," she replied, her arms crossed over her chest in her usual manner. She acted as if nothing was out of the ordinary! "I may not know the answer. You realize this of course."  
  
"Of course." Krillin cleared his throat and just blurted out his query. "Are they all gay?"  
  
"What's 'gay'? Define the term," the blonde guard demanded. Her head turned to look at him, but all he could see of her features was that large scouter over her eye, like some horrible blemish that disfigured her forever.  
  
"Um, uh, heh." The bald man scratched his shiny head, a little embarrassed at having to come up with any explanation. "Uh, it means, um, you know, when one guy likes another guy, you know, in that way that, uh, a guy is supposed to like a girl?"  
  
"You mean, do they prefer other males?"  
  
"Yeah, something like that."  
  
"Prince Gohan has no particular preference," she calmly answered. She turned to face forward again, her head tilted slightly to the side as she thought. Her strides never faltered, though. "He is an equal opportunist in his bed. I can't say for certain about the others. Vegeta is rumored to prefer other males only, so I assume that would make him 'gay' by your definition."  
  
"And what about the other prince?" Krillin asked softly. This was all just so very strange to him. He had known these people! And here, they were completely different! And Yamcha! 'Could I have been wrong about him all this time? I wonder if Piccolo ever hit on -him-... but do I really want to know? You know, I don't think I do.'  
  
"No one knows. He is... untouched. Quite literally." 18 shrugged.  
  
"Oh," Krillin sounded, his eyebrows sky-high. "So, he's a, um..."  
  
"Yes. He doesn't chase anyone. And no one would dare chase him."  
  
"Gotcha," the short man nodded.  
  
"Why do you want to know?" 18 inquired.  
  
Krillin blushed profusely. It wasn't that he had a problem with it. But he had gotten quite a shock, to say the least. "Uh, gee, well, um. Y-y-you know, uh, I, uh, basically just, uh... was thinking that, um, maybe, they were, you know, kinda... gay."  
  
"Are you interested?"  
  
"Oh, hell no!" Krillin quickly answered before 18 had even finished the last word of her question, swearing a little louder than he probably should have. "I mean, uh, not that there's anything wrong with that, or anything, but, uh, I, uh, prefer women. No guys for me. No, no, no."  
  
18 simply nodded. They continued the rest of their walk to the dining hall without saying another word, but a final thought planted itself firmly in Krillin's mind. 'Wow. They really are all gay. Who would've thought?' 


	9. Fool For Love

Disclaimer: I, Summer Starr, and my companion, Deani, own jack shit of Dragonball Z. We know this. We admit to this. If we -DID- own it, let's just say a good number of things would change. And we believe it would be for the better.  
  
Warnings: Yaoi. Sexy men doing things that are barely physically possible with other sexy men. Violence. Alcohol use and abuse. Sap, fluff, angst, and whatnot. And of course, other naughty bits.  
  
Kingdom Come ~Chapter 9  
  
The screen clicked off, yet the person who received the message swore that dark eyes remained behind, to haunt her. Bulma closed her eyes as her head fell forward. Her hair fell to curtain her face away from the world around her, but the illusion was pushed aside with a powdered blue hand.  
  
"Mistress Bulma?" Zarbon asked softly, his golden eyes shining with unspoken concern.  
  
"He's almost home," she replied, leaning her head into his palm, secure with his touch. Safe with him near her. Tiny diamonds of tears slipped from her eyes, slipping onto the cool hand that cupped her face. "He says that I should look my best for when he arrives in four hours. He says he wants to see me waiting for him on the landing field. I am to wear the blue dress. And I am not to leave his side tonight, not even while at the mandatory party that will be held in his honor. I am to be his decoration, his crown jewel. Again."  
  
Zarbon heard about half of what she said, before his concern drowned out his hearing. He knelt down beside her, pulling her close only slightly, but it was enough for her to fall onto his shoulder. She wrapped her arms around his neck and sobbed into the curve of shoulder and neck. Amber eyes closed in jealousy and sympathy. He wrapped his own arms around her, bringing her close, even as he buried his face into her lovely blue hair. "Shh, Mistress. I am here. Nothing will happen to you."  
  
He repeated his pledge to her over and over, like a mantra, until her crying finally subsided. He stroked her hair, rubbed her back, anything and everything to touch her and to sooth her. It was all that he could do. Finally, when she caught her breath, and calmed down, she snuggled deeper into his embrace.  
  
"Thank you, Zarbon," she whispered from where she rested. "Thank you for being here."  
  
"Where else would I be, Mistress?" Zarbon asked.  
  
"Heh. Yeah," Bulma replied. She leaned back, grinning even though her face was tear-stained. "But I mean it anyway. You're very good to me. I'm glad you're here."  
  
Zarbon blushed at her praise. They stayed like that for a few more moments, embracing, before she sighed with resignation, signaling the end to the pleasant contact.  
  
"I suppose I should start getting ready for him," Bulma said dryly.  
  
"You know he loves you," Zarbon intoned as he stood up and away from the human woman.  
  
"In a way, yes, he does love me," Bulma answered. "But I don't love him. I don't think I ever could."  
  
"I know," Zarbon smiled. They shared a look between them that bespoke of other things that he knew, things that had never been said, and never would be said. Things that were both forbidden. and real.  
  
***  
  
The grand chamber was filled with people, most reeking of testosterone and alcohol. Lord Kakarrot sat upon his throne, his lovely jewel sitting beside him. He gazed out over the gathered fighters that mingled close to the walls and doors. In the center of the room, there were several dancers, beautiful people who were there strictly for his pleasure. A brown tail was curled lazily around him. But the great Lord Kakarrot's eyes often drifted away from them to settle upon Bulma, brown orbs softening somewhat. "Do you care for anything to eat or drink, lovely one?"  
  
"No, thank you, milord," Bulma replied, her blue eyes staring straight ahead. Behind and to the side of her chair, she could feel Zarbon's ever- present warmth there, giving her strength. She looked out into the crowd, paying attention to all the ones her son had described to her. She was very aware the moment the green man and his two humans entered the room. As she looked over each one, her breath hitched slightly as she saw the taller of the two humans. He had to be Yamcha, as she could see Vegeta standing right behind him, guarding him viciously. Well, she could certainly see why Vegeta might be taken with the man. He was lovely.  
  
"Is everything all right?" Lord Kakarrot asked, genuine concern lacing his voice. He brushed Zarbon's worried presence away with a wave of his hand, but his eyes never left Bulma's face, so he did not see the flash of resentment and anger that danced upon the azure man's face that quickly washed away.  
  
Bulma looked at the scarred warrior, catching his eyes ever so briefly before she smiled and turned to look at Lord Kakarrot, her face alight with an inner radiance that he had rarely seen. "Yes. Of course. Everything is just fine. Just fine."  
  
Her eyes swept the group again. Bulma so enjoyed seeing the guards -- if she had to see them -- in their dress uniforms. She admired the clean lines of the black pants and knee boots, as well as the mandarin-collared, cropped jackets. The uniforms reminded her of the old earth military uniforms; they were so clean and dapper, not the cold armor and bodysuits they normally wore, though these were just as formfitting.  
  
Just then, the one she decided was Yamcha moved completely into view, and she got a good look at him. 'Very handsome indeed,' she thought to herself. 'And in a tuxedo! I haven't seen a tuxedo in forever. Oh, and the short guy is wearing one too! But how weird for them to be wearing orange cummerbunds. Not a very attractive color.'  
  
Finally, she gazed at the tallest being of the group, whom she assumed to be none other than the infamous Piccolo her son described. The turban and cape he'd mentioned must have been nixed for the formal party, as the green man wore baggy black pants and an indigo top similar to the guards' jackets though ending mid-hip rather than at the waist. She could see how Piccolo could be viewed as intimidating... as well as handsome. "So, Lord, who is the large green man?" Bulma inquired innocently.  
  
"Why?" The Saiyajin ruler asked, suspicious. And a bit jealous.  
  
"Well, usually, 17 is beside you, guarding you, and being somewhat underfoot. Now, he is behind the green man. I was wondering who he is to be offered such. courtesy. Is he some invited delegate? Perhaps a powerful Royal from some far distant planet?" she answered, her eyes downcast and sliding away from him, as if she were hurt at his tone. In truth, she knew the moment she saw him who he was, but he didn't know that. Besides, this would offer her more information, intelligence that her son would not be able to gather.  
  
"Oh, heh. Yeah," Lord Kakarrot smiled at her. He raised his wine glass to a barely clad maid, demanding a refill. She nearly tripped over herself in order to do as her lord and master wished. "True. The green man is Demon Lord Piccolo. He is a visitor, brought in by Jeice. I am allowing him and his two human pets to stay here, as a sort of joke to the Ginyu force. Hmm. I wonder where Ginyu is. I haven't seen him all day. Oh, well, he will show up, the mongrel." The royal stretched a bit and sighed. "Anyway, we don't know much about him or his humans. I can only assume Goten is working on it. I swear that boy is always working on something. It's unnatural. Just as well, I suppose. Keeps him out of my hair. But that Piccolo is to participate in the tournament." A contemptuous smirk spread across Kakarrot's face. "We'll see how well he fares against the likes of a super- saiyajin."  
  
The galactic ruler tilted his head to the side, somewhat confused, but then turned his gaze to the many attendees of the party. He saw his sons, each on halves of the room. Goten, he saw, was wearing the formal uniform for his Royal Inquisitor position, his tail wrapped as tightly around his middle as ever. 'All business, isn't he,' he thought to himself. But he had to admit that at least his younger son wore the clothing well. It differed from a regular guard dress uniform in that the jacket was slightly longer with red and gold piping, and he wore a thick crimson sash with gold trim around his waist. Nodding in approval he sought out the favored Gohan. Lord Kakarrot chuckled a bit as soon as his eyes found the elder son. The tight leather pants, tall boots, and crimson sash mirrored his brother's garb, save for the leather of the pants, but the long vest left open baring his muscular torso and arms was truly Gohan. His tail curled behind him, nonchalant and very inviting a target. 'Looks like someone is out to find a proper bed partner,' Kakarrot thought smugly. 'Would that his brother would do so eventually.'  
  
The emperor looked on with some amusement as Gohan took notice of when Piccolo entered the room. A small smile danced across the monarch's features as he realized on whom Gohan had his sights set. The grin increased as Piccolo seemed to take notice, and then proceeded to locate Goten.  
  
Piccolo glanced around when he and the others came in. He took special care to notice Lord Kakarrot and Bulma, but more importantly, he noticed Gohan and Goten. He immediately went to stand with Goten, who was alone and somehow managing to maintain his privacy, as if there was a two-foot boundary between him and the rest of the gathered masses. Gohan, who was across the room, was standing in the middle of a crowd, and it seemed he was telling a story.  
  
The dark-haired android kept skimming the crowd, looking for trouble, as Piccolo led the way to Goten. The guard remained a small space behind, merely an observer. He hated parties. Too many people, and not nearly as much fun as they could have been.  
  
Goten looked up as Piccolo approached, a small smile forming. "Greetings, Demon Lord Piccolo. How are you on this... fine evening?"  
  
Piccolo raised an eyebrow at the formalness of the speech, but replied in kind. "I am well. And you, fair Prince Goten?"  
  
Goten blushed scarlet at the 'fair' comment, his tail tightening its already death-grip around his waist. He ducked his head away, and then tried to cover the motion with a fake cough and a nod to the gathered warriors and courtesans. "I'm good. I've been watching the dancers."  
  
Piccolo turned to view the small group of barely clad humanoids dancing in the center of the room. He tilted his head to the side as he watched their movements, listening to the harps in the background. He looked at each individual in turn, before turning his gaze back to Goten. "They dance very nicely, I would think."  
  
Goten giggled, actually giggled, as he flicked his gaze back to the large green man standing beside him. "Not those dancers. The courtesans, the politicians, the warriors, all the people trying to get Father's attention. Or Gohan's. Those dancers. Trust me, the ones doing the actual dancing are far better at their jobs than these fools who are looking for favors."  
  
A bar maid came by, holding a platter of drinks in one hand and a platter of food in the other. Goten replaced his empty glass with a filled one and grabbed a small handful of assorted goodies. As she left, Piccolo stepped out of her path and closer to Goten. The movement did not go unnoticed.  
  
"So, um," Goten stuttered, not wanting to move from where he was standing, but also very much aware of where Piccolo was standing. "Why didn't you grab a drink?"  
  
"I do not drink alcohol," Piccolo replied. "How many drinks have you had?"  
  
"Actually, I'm on my last one. This will make five. I don't normally drink more than that at any given party. It dulls the senses," Goten said as he took a sip from his glass.  
  
"Yes. It does," the taller warrior acknowledged. "You were telling me about the party attendees. Who were you watching as I came in?"  
  
"Watching?" Goten blinked, looked at Piccolo, blushed, and then looked away. Gathering his addled wits, he looked out over the crowd, too embarrassed to admit that he had simply been waiting for the green man to arrive. Scanning the crowd, he had to think fast to come up with a good lie. "Do you see the all-black dog-like man over there, standing beside Gohan?"  
  
Piccolo looked out over the many people, already knowing who Goten was talking about, but also trying to not be obvious. Goten wasn't pointing the person out, so it was clear that he wasn't trying to draw attention to what was being said. "Yes, I see him."  
  
Just at that moment, the large group of people surrounding Gohan let out a loud group laugh, drowning out all sound in the room for a few moments. Piccolo looked at some of their faces, and knew that what was being said wasn't really that funny, but they were too scared not to laugh. Too afraid of Gohan.  
  
"I was just watching him trip over himself as he tried to impress Gohan," Goten shrugged, talking only loud enough to be heard over the noise in the room. "You see, since he's so similar to a dog, he has this problem with humping the guests' legs. I think we have a guard watching him at this function. No leg-humping tonight, I can assure you. Oh, well. It doesn't matter. He isn't important. Just don't let him near your legs."  
  
"I'll keep that in mind," Piccolo responded.  
  
Goten dared a glance up at the taller man's face and caught a bright flash of fangs from Piccolo's quick grin. He couldn't help but smile back. He quickly glanced away, taking a sip from his glass. His eyes roamed over the crowd, but he didn't take the time to actually look at anyone. He was trying to think of something witty to say, something that would impress the other male. 'But what impresses him?' he thought. 'Gohan hasn't succeeded yet, and he is -very- good at impressing people.' His brown eyes rested on a potted plant well across the room, and away from others, before he dared to glance back at Piccolo. 'Gods, he's stunning. Isn't he stunning? And how many glasses of wine have I had tonight? I think I might've underestimated a bit. I can't even get a coherent thought out of my head. Oh, hey! I had a drunken thought using the word 'coherent'. Maybe I'm not that drunk after all. And look at Piccolo. Isn't he just stunning?' Finally, he lightly remarked, "You look very nice."  
  
"You'll have to thank my companions for that," the taller man replied. "They goaded me into choosing something different... for the occasion."  
  
"I certainly will," smiled the demi-saiyajin before he took another sip from his glass. 'Damn right, I will.'  
  
***  
  
Behind and to the side of Bulma, Zarbon had a relatively unobstructed view of the party. If he so chose, he could sit and watch all the partygoers as they mingled, as they planned, as they plotted, as they began to die without even knowing it. But the powder-blue skinned man had eyes for none of the intricacies of the ritualistic dance of court life. No, Zarbon had other entertainment in his sights. Vegeta.  
  
Zarbon was listening to the tone of voice Bulma was using, rather than the actual words. That would be what allowed him to know the moment she wanted anything. He knew the rest of the court thought of him as her pet, as her slave, rather than as her guard. He also knew he didn't give a damn about what they thought. Looking across the room, he saw a shorter, tailed version of himself in Vegeta. He knew the look, the slightly down-turned face, the eyes that constantly scanned the room more from protective jealousy than from duty, the fact that Vegeta was closer to Yamcha than any guard really needed to be just so he could feel safe in the knowledge that his charge was indeed there. Yes, Zarbon knew all the clues. He knew the reason for the actions, as they were twin to his own.  
  
With a quick look at Lord Kakarrot, Zarbon went and snagged his Mistress a glass of wine. He set it beside her without either of them being the wiser for it, but when she saw the drink, she slid her eyes to meet his and smiled their secret smile. Zarbon inhaled deeply, ducking his head slightly as he turned to gaze out at the crowd again. Dimly, he wondered if Vegeta felt the same for Yamcha as he did for Bulma. 'What is it about the humans?'  
  
Vegeta, for his part, felt a great many eyes on him, but he was used to their morbid curiosity. They came to see the saiyajin that had once been a prince and now was nothing. He could live with that. It didn't mean he had to like it, it just meant that he could live with it. Especially as the night wore on and Yamcha continued to glance at him, and then away with a blush. His furry tail was wrapped securely and unmoving around his waist. Would that his thoughts could be as controlled as his tail.  
  
They shared the same room for the most part, but they no longer slept in the same bed. Now, Vegeta had a small cot tucked close to the door, but the room was larger, and he woke most mornings inhaling the familiar, desired scent of the human. Strangely enough, Yamcha clung to only one side of the bed, the sheets twisted and lumped on half the bed, while the other was pristine as if no one had ever disturbed it. It was almost as if Yamcha was saving that half for him, but Vegeta didn't think this was. quite possible.  
  
The small guard looked up at the raised dais where Lord Kakarrot and Bulma, and her pet Zarbon, stood. But his eyes quickly returned to Yamcha as the human conversed and laughed with his shorter companion. How the two humans could enjoy themselves among the mass of degenerate scum surrounding them, Vegeta would never know. The once prince stepped closer to his charge, yet remained a decent distance away.  
  
"Oh, man," Krillin snickered. "What on earth is -that-?"  
  
Yamcha bit his lip to keep from busting out laughing at the creature to whom Krillin was referring. "I dunno, man. It looks like a giant kitchen sponge with legs!"  
  
"That's Ambassador Marlek," commented 18. "Her world has a greater gravitation than this, hence her odd appearance here."  
  
"That's a -chick-?!" the bald man asked just as he cracked up. "Man, I wish I had a camera!"  
  
"And what is -she- wearing?" Yamcha inquired as he discreetly pointed out a rotund being wearing not much more than a few strategically placed metallic straps.  
  
"-He-," 18 corrected, "is the Grand Duke of Harethan." She smirked a bit before continuing. "Unfortunately for their race, they -all- look like that. One can't really tell male from female unless they open their mouths."  
  
"Huh?" Krillin sounded. "What's the difference between their mouths?"  
  
"The women have no teeth."  
  
"I guess the men are pretty lucky then, huh?" giggled Yamcha.  
  
"Because they can bite?" the blonde android questioned, her face full of perplexity. She looked thoughtful for a moment, then said, "I suppose the ability to bite would be an advantage in self-defense or whatever."  
  
The two humans both exploded with laughter. "She-she, hee hee! She thinks- she thinks we meant biting! Ha HA!" Krillin managed to get out.  
  
"Well, if not for biting, then what?" she asked. Krillin crooked his finger for her to come down to his level. Eyeing him warily, 18 bent down slightly leaning her head a bit when Krillin began whispering something in her ear. Suddenly, she bolted upright, staring at the two humans incredulously. "Why would anyone want to put their mouths there?!"  
  
Krillin and Yamcha just continued to laugh, swiping new drinks each time the bar maid passed them.  
  
Vegeta turned his head away from the blond android, smirking at the human's joke. Apparently, the lady's prowess in bed was somewhat overrated. He couldn't contain his soft laughter or the shaking of his head for too long, but at least she didn't see.  
  
Krillin continued to chuckle to himself. Then, looking around, he said, "Hey, where's Piccolo? I haven't seen him since we got here."  
  
"Oh, he's over there, talking to someone, but I can't see who. Ambassador Sponge is in the way," Yamcha replied, craning his neck some.  
  
"He's speaking with Prince Goten," Vegeta stated. His view was unobstructed, despite his height.  
  
"Prince Goten, huh?" Krillin repeated. "Piccolo isn't drunk, is he?"  
  
"Nah, you know Piccolo doesn't drink, man," Yamcha answered.  
  
"Good," the shorter male nodded. He took a sip from his drink then muttered, "Nobody'll be bedding him tonight, I guess."  
  
"What was that?" Yamcha asked, his eyebrows high as he glanced down from the drink he was draining.  
  
Krillin shrugged. Had he said that out loud? "I didn't say anything," he said. "You must be imagining things."  
  
"Oh, okay." Yamcha jiggled the empty glass in his hand. "Where's one of those women with the drink trays? I'm all out, here. Yo, drink lady!"  
  
Away from the group of humans and guards, Prince Gohan stood amongst many gathered warriors and politicians. He saw that Lord Piccolo and his brother were talking, which was all well and good to him. He hoped that Goten might be able to find out something that he could use to seduce the large green man with. In the mean time, there were other things that required his attention. His dark tail fluffed in excitement and annoyance.  
  
The prince raised his hand in the air, forming a bright chi ball, before allowing it to simply shoot harmlessly into the air. The roof of the room was reinforced enough that such displays would not damage it, or at least, not too badly damage it. Raising his voice he called out loud enough to be heard, "On this night, we welcome back the Lord and Master of the Galactic Empire, Lord Kakarrot! He has been away from home for almost five months now, after several solo missions of planet purging. Congratulations on your venture, milord!"  
  
A round of cheers went up around the room. Krillin, Yamcha, and Piccolo raised their glasses so as not to be seen as traitorous, but their voices remained stilled.  
  
"Thank you, my son," Lord Kakarrot said as he stood up, briefly leaving Bulma's side for which she was ever thankful. His tail curled proud and beautiful behind him. "It was a glorious trip, though not one of any hardship or adventure. I will say that we have taken on many new planets to our domain, planets that need to be populated. Are you up to the task, my sons?"  
  
"I am forever up to that duty." Gohan laughed, as did the rest of the gathered crowd. They laughed because they were afraid not to, not because they found anything funny.  
  
"I know you are," Lord Kakarrot replied. Then he turned to Goten, "And what of you, Prince Goten?"  
  
"I am yours to command, Father," Goten answered with a slight bow.  
  
"Truly?" And there was a wicked glint to his eyes. "I shall keep that in mind."  
  
Goten flushed as his father turned away. He glared at his father's back before he downed the last of his drink, snagging another as a bar maid passed by. "I wonder if they will ever let that drop..."  
  
"Let what drop?" Piccolo asked.  
  
"The jokes about my... purity," Goten mumbled. He quickly downed the contents of his new drink in a few large gulps and grabbed one more off the next passing tray. "It never seems to end."  
  
"It will," remarked the green male.  
  
The young demi-saiyajin choked a little on his drink, his face flushed bright red. "Th-think so?"  
  
"I don't see why not," Piccolo smirked.  
  
To that, Goten had nothing to say, so he let his gaze slip away from Piccolo's visage and scan over the crowd again. His gaze fell on 17 as the android watched the crowd from a short distance away. The guard had his hair in his usual ponytail, still and unmoving. The only other creatures that Goten had ever seen be that still were all dead. Dead creatures, life and joy and movement having left them.  
  
All these people, and none of them were worth his evening, 17 decided. He didn't mind Piccolo, or the two humans for that matter. But, if he could have his way, he'd be in his room, out of the silly dress uniform, and talking with Trunks. Only his eyes moved as he scanned the crowd for any possible attack, though to be so bold as to attack at a royal welcoming party was rather suicide. Still, nothing was out of the question for desperate people. Time passed at a crawling pace for him, though he knew exactly what time it was.  
  
As the evening wore on, he saw more and more glasses emptied. More and more warriors staggered out of the hall, or were forced to be carried. But the night was still young for some, and there was much more to be drank. As he thought on how much time had passed, and how most of the partiers were ready to leave, 17, who had spent most of his life at court, heard the most amazing sound.  
  
Arctic blue eyes turned, as did most of the remaining court, as Goten laughed loud enough to be heard clear across the room. He actually laughed. Synthetic eyes widened in shock and surprise. He couldn't remember ever hearing such a. pleasing sound. The guard caught a quick movement out of the corner of his eye and noticed Lord Kakarrot was signaling him.  
  
After excusing himself from the company of his charge and the younger prince, the android made his way to the emperor's side and kneeled down on one knee beside him. "You called for me, milord?"  
  
"Yesss, 17," Lord Kakarrot confirmed, his voice beginning to slur a bit from the amount of alcohol he'd consumed. "You've been a good boy these past few months playing watchdog for the green man, but I don't think your services will be required for the rest of the evening."  
  
"May I ask to what you're referring, your highness?" 17 inquired, confusion dancing in his eyes.  
  
"See there," the emperor said, pointing in the general direction of Piccolo and his son. "Your guest has been with Prince Goten all night. And from what I can tell, they'll probably want to be with each other for the rest of the night, if you get my meaning." Lord Kakarrot winked and slid down in his chair a bit, chuckling. "Somehow, I doubt they'll require your services. I think Lord Piccolo will be in good hands, don't you? Heh. So, take the rest of the night off. Goten'll call for you in the morning when he's ready."  
  
17 bowed again and moved away once the royal had waved him off. While he was delighted in being relieved of duty, he was certain that neither Piccolo nor Goten was privy to his time off. He headed directly towards them, stopping only briefly. "Our Lord Kakarrot has seen fit to give me leave this evening," the android stated. Turning to Goten, he added with the smallest smirk, "He trusts that you'll keep Lord Piccolo in... good hands. Please do call for me when you're ready for me to return to my post."  
  
Goten stared down into the crystal depths the contents of his wine glass. His face felt red hot to him, all the way to the tips of his ears and down his chest. He knew he must be blushing a firestorm. "Gods, why did he do that?" the demi-saiyajin mumbled softly. "How embarrassing! Does he know? He can't possibly know. He doesn't know anything. He's just... Lucky bastard. Just how... Oh, he couldn't -possibly- know!"  
  
Piccolo suddenly cleared his throat and loudly spoke to cover Goten's quiet ramblings, though they were too softly spoken for most normal hearing to pick up. "Have a good evening, then, 17," he nodded, noting for the android to take his leave. Piccolo acknowledged 17's bow then watched him depart quickly, grabbing something and tucking it under his arm as he left. The tall man nudged his younger companion, who was still muttering things to himself. "Goten. You are aware that you're speaking out loud, are you not?"  
  
"What?" Goten asked, his eyebrows raised. "I'm... Oh. So you heard all that, huh?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Did it make any sense to you?" Goten tossed back the remaining contents of his glass quickly. His mind was racing but stumbling all over itself.  
  
"No," Piccolo fibbed.  
  
"Good," the prince sighed. "You know, I'm kind of afraid to think any complete thoughts because they might... come out of my mouth instead of stay in my head. Ridiculous, huh? Damn alcohol." He shook his head trying to clear it, which worked for the most ephemeral of moments. Daring to look up at Piccolo, he said, "So, um, I guess you're stuck with me for the rest of the night. Is that okay?"  
  
The green male had his head tilted to the side, gazing down at the demi- saiyajin. Though he knew he had no other option, the prospect of spending the rest of the evening with Goten didn't seem entirely unpleasant. In fact, he had no problem with it whatsoever. A smirk slowly spread across his lips. "Fine by me," Piccolo answered.  
  
***  
  
The night grew late, until it was more early morning than late night. Yamcha and Krillin drank from their glasses, taking care to know their limit. For Yamcha, that limit was fast approaching. Fortunately for his ego, it was Krillin who excused himself first.  
  
"Heh. I hafta go to the little men's room and relieve the big man," Krillin laughed around a large yawn. "And then I think I'm just gonna crash."  
  
Yamcha's deep-throated laugh followed the shorter male and his blonde guard out of the room, drawing some attention. Vegeta moved closer to his charge, his tail puffed yet still fully wrapped around his waist.  
  
"Enjoying the sights?" Jeice asked as he came upon them, followed by Burter.  
  
"Some are better than others," Yamcha replied, eyeing the duo over the rim of his glass as he took another swallow.  
  
"I'm sure," Burter intoned. He turned to look at Vegeta, noting the way the shorter man's stance and attitude had changed since Ginyu had died.  
  
"Burter, what are you staring at?" Yamcha asked, noticing the larger alien's fixated stare. The human even moved in front of Vegeta, effectively blocking Burter's aggressive glare.  
  
Burter looked at Yamcha's slightly glazed eyes and smirked. "Nothing. I'm looking at nothing."  
  
"Funny," Yamcha sneered back while staring at the taller warrior. "I'm looking at the same thing."  
  
Vegeta growled softly as the two Ginyu Force members walked off. Yamcha turned to him, a slight tilt to his head as if he was about to ask a question. Vegeta glared at him, folding his arms over his chest and speaking first, but softly so as not to alert the other party attendees. "Why did you get in front of me? I am -your- guard, not the other way around!"  
  
"Hmm?" Yamcha replied, somewhat confused. "Oh, them. They're nothing, Vegeta. Don't worry about 'em. I was wondering, do you want to go for a walk or something. I mean, it's getting late and no one has ordered us to go to our rooms, so why not go for a walk or something?"  
  
Vegeta stared at Yamcha's quizzical expression for a heartbeat or three before sighing loudly, his tail twitching, and then turning to walk out towards the gardens. How could Yamcha say that the Ginyu force was nothing? Vegeta didn't think that the human was stupid, yet that mentality only belonged with someone who was either insane or suicidal. He shook his head slightly, trying to figure out this new piece of the puzzle. Just how strong was Yamcha anyway?  
  
***  
  
Krillin rubbed his hands together under the air dryer in his personal restroom. In reality, it was nothing more than a tiny closet with a toilet, a sink, and a dryer for his hands. He hadn't even known the restroom existed until 18 had pointed out the nearly seamless door to him when he'd had to relieve himself on the first night of their arrival. Finally feeling his hands were sufficiently dry, he stumbled out of the small room into his bedroom.  
  
18 was sprawled out obscenely on his bed, naked. To her, she was posing seductively. To anyone else, however, she may as well have been a centerfold spread in one of Master Roshi's dirty magazines.  
  
The short human grinned broadly. "Hey, sweetie! You missed a great party tonight."  
  
"Huh?" the blonde android sounded. Her brow was furrowed in confusion. Was he nuts? She hadn't missed the party. She -had- to be there! She was his -guard-.  
  
Krillin chuckled as he started disrobing for bed. "Yeah, it was fun, all right. There was this woman who looked like a giant blueberry and a huge talking sponge guy. I think they're supposed to be dignitaries or something. Anyway, there were tons of people to poke fun at. I think you would've dug the party."  
  
18 remained silent, her confusion plainly written on her usually stony face, but did not move from her position on his bed.  
  
"It's great to see you, but you've gotta be careful," he said, barely able to keep his eyes open even to slits. "I got this real bitch of a guard watching me. She kinda looks like you, but you're way prettier."  
  
The android's confusion turned to aggravation. 'Just who the hell does that lowlife think he is?!' she thought. 'How dare he think of me that way!'  
  
Scratching his bald head, the human laughed again. "Heh. You know, I think I drank too much. Room's a little spinny."  
  
At this, 18 leaped off the bed and tackled the unsuspecting shorter male, crushing their lips together brutally when they landed on the floor with a loud thud. They rolled around a bit, kissing and pawing at each other until, finally, 18 threw Krillin backwards onto the bed.  
  
"Gee, honey," Krillin managed to snicker before being attacked again. "All you had to do was ask!"  
  
***  
  
As they walked down the familiar corridor, Goten's mind was filled with the excess of alcohol he had unintentionally drank. Piccolo walked beside him, keeping his pace slow so that the prince would not be left behind. Goten looked over at his companion, smiling shyly for no reason he could really think of. His cheeks were slightly tinted, and he felt extremely warm in his uniform. With a muffled curse at his discomfort, Goten began to undo his jacket.  
  
Piccolo watched as Goten began to struggle out of his jacket. The demi- saiyajin seemed to be a bit addled. With a grin, the green warrior pulled up short, forcing Goten to stop with a strong hand on the prince's shoulder. "Here. Let me."  
  
Goten looked up sharply even as Piccolo leaned down and began to undo the many shiny buttons. The young royal flushed crimson, his tail coming loose from around his waist to curl agitatedly behind him. He looked down to stare in transfixed wonder as green fingers seemed to fly over his jacket. And then the last button was undone, and Piccolo took back his hands. Goten was free of his jacket, but he was put on edge by the simple act. With brows furrowed in confusion and embarrassment, Goten whispered, "Thank you."  
  
"You are welcome," Piccolo replied as he began down the hall again. Goten followed absently behind him, staring down at the ground, or more precisely at his jacket buttons.  
  
They arrived at Piccolo's room shortly thereafter. Goten walked in after Piccolo, the soft wind of the closing door ruffling the fur on his tail. Goten's eyes widened as he looked at Piccolo and then the bed, flickering back and forth between the two.  
  
Piccolo watched as Goten realized where he was and who he was with. He thought it rather sad that Goten was near panic at that moment, more so because he knew only Goten was going to be sleeping on the bed. "Goten?"  
  
"Huh?" Goten squeaked, jumping at the sound of his name. He was afraid. Terrified. But he was also excited. He wanted this, wanted to sleep with Piccolo, but he didn't know what he was expected to do. Walking over to 17's small bed near the door, he discarded the crimson sash and black jacket of his uniform on the bed. Surely it had to start with that, with a lack of clothing. Next, he removed his boots and socks, but when it came to his pants, he paused, his tail twitching nervously behind him. His dress uniform pants were so form-fitting that he'd worn no undergarments beneath them. "I don't have any sleep clothes," he stated.  
  
The green male cocked his head to one side and raised an eyebrow ridge. "Do you -need- sleep clothes?"  
  
"I--I suppose not," the demi-saiyajin decided, his cheeks reddening further. Was this it? Was this the moment for which he'd been waiting his whole life but wasn't sure it would ever come? He slowly undid the buttons of his pants and slid the constrictive cloth down his slim hips, dropping them on top of the pile on the guard's bed. Too nervous to venture a glance at Piccolo, he moved straight to the bed and crawled into it, pulling the covers up only slightly. His tail played lightly in the sheets.  
  
Piccolo noticed how nervous the younger man was. He was practically jumping at his own shadow. He also realized how body shy the half human was, as if he was rarely without clothes in front of anyone. Considering he had seen all the male Sons nude before, he found it rather odd that Goten seemed so shaken over the simple fact of being bare in front of him. And it wasn't as if Goten didn't have a nice body. Very well defined, agile, and lean instead of bulky as some of the warriors around the palace.  
  
Finally, Goten was able to look up at the other man. Piccolo unbuttoned his indigo top and slowly pulled it off his torso, tossing it into the large armoire against the wall. Goten's breathing almost stopped as he thought about that bare chest being pressed against his. What would it feel like? How was this going to work? One thing was certain to the already skittish yet excited youth, he desired this, more than anything he could ever remember wanting. Toeing off his shoes, Piccolo immediately floated up into the lotus position.  
  
Goten frowned slightly. "What are you doing?" he queried.  
  
Piccolo cracked open one eye and peered down at the prince. "I don't need to sleep, but you do," he stated. "You're welcome to have the entire bed all to yourself."  
  
The frown deepened on the younger male's face. What was that supposed to mean? He wasn't planning on sleeping with him? But he'd thought that-- "You're not going to sleep with me?"  
  
The tall man bit back a comment on the double meaning of those words and opted to go with the cleanest version. "I thought you'd prefer to sleep off the alcohol you consumed in the comfort of having the bed to yourself."  
  
Goten clenched his jaw. This was just unfair. He'd come all this way and gotten into Piccolo's bed completely naked just to be rejected? Unfair! His brown tail wrapped itself securely about his waist. So it was all in his head, wasn't it? Piccolo didn't want him. He never wanted him. All of his usually hidden fears came to the forefront. "Is it me?" he asked softly. "It's me, isn't it? Am I not good enough to share a bed with? Am I that repulsive?"  
  
"What makes you think that?" Piccolo inquired back. Just what was going through Goten's mind?  
  
"You won't even share the bed," Goten pointed out. "This is very big bed. There's enough room for both of us. But you won't even get in it."  
  
"I told you why not," the taller man said exasperatedly.  
  
"That's no excuse," the demi-saiyajin stated. "Unless it's the nice way of saying, 'You're worthless and don't deserve to sleep with me'. I mean, I know that I'm not exactly the best person here, but. Is that it? Is it you would rather me be someone else?"  
  
'And so it comes to this,' Piccolo thought with a sigh. His own past words rang out in his head. He'd remembered when he'd first spoken with the prince and called him 'worthless'. He knew that slip back into his darker side would come back to haunt him.  
  
"What do you think of me really?" the prince questioned as he sat up. "You know, don't answer that. I'm not even sure I want to know. I've tried to change, tried to become the person you... But it's not enough, is it? I haven't done enough to prove myself to you. What is it going to take to do that? What is it going to take to prove myself to you? Make myself worthy? Because... I want to be. I want to be worthy of -someone's- attention, dammit! I know I'm not powerful enough, or lovely enough, or fucking good enough to ever be a true rival to Gohan! Because guess what! I'm not my brother! I am NOT the golden child! I'm Goten!"  
  
Suddenly, Piccolo unfurled from his hovering position and strode purposefully to the side of the bed. He placed a single, slim finger over Goten's still open lips, halting the rather heated speech altogether. "Shhh."  
  
Gazing steadily into the smaller male's eyes, Piccolo climbed into the bed beside him. His obsidian orbs never left Goten's as he stretched the covers over their forms and settled next to the demi-saiyajin. Goten, caught off guard, wasn't sure what the other man was up to, but he could not have cared less at the time. He was drowning in the dark depths of Piccolo's eyes.  
  
'I can't believe I'm doing this,' Piccolo thought. 'And why -am- I doing this? To ease his self-pity? Is it really just for him? I shouldn't be doing this.' But the acceptance in Goten's eyes made something else come to his mind. 'I shouldn't, but I want to. I want... to be a little bit... closer... to him.'  
  
Before Piccolo settled all the way into the bed, Goten immediately wrapped himself around the green male, snuggling close and letting his eyes fall shut. His tail uncurled from around his waist to lie across Piccolo's flat stomach, the tip flickering. "Mmm," he sounded, his voice muffled by the larger male's neck.  
  
Goten had wanted the closeness, even without the sex. Just finding someone to -be- with was something extraordinary to him. The taller man hadn't rejected him; that was all he needed to know to set his mind at ease. He wanted reassurance and comfort, and there was no place more inviting and cozy than being next to Piccolo. "Thank you," he murmured. "I'm sorry. For the outburst."  
  
"Yeah," Piccolo whispered in a voice barely louder than a breath. He slid an arm behind Goten, allowing the prince to snuggle closer. What had he gotten himself into now? So lost in that thought, he was scarcely aware that he'd begun to lightly run his fingertips up and down the demi- saiyajin's naked back, swiftly lulling the smaller male into sleep. This was all exceedingly confusing for Piccolo. Half the time, he was straining to keep himself under control; the other half of the time, he acted upon instinct, especially where it concerned Goten. There was just so much he sensed in the younger man, but the part that stuck out the most was how deprived he was. Piccolo realized that Goten denied himself many things, most notably emotions and physical contact. The way he latched onto him? The prince needed the contact; even he knew this. More importantly, Piccolo identified with it. He'd been depriving himself for so many years, he'd lost count, not that he'd really been counting in the first place. But he understood. Everyone thought that he was the noble one, the honorable one, the one who put the world before himself. Didn't they realize he only put the world first because of...? He wanted to be as selfish as anyone else; he just never got the opportunity to get what he wanted.  
  
Piccolo pressed his lips gently to Goten's brow then closed his eyes. His thoughts made one final statement before he entered his repose.  
  
'I want this.'  
  
***  
  
The soft sound of rapid breathing woke Vegeta from his light sleep. Automatically, he became defensive. He scanned the dark room as he slowly stood up. Still sleeping in his bed, Yamcha was the source for the sound. Vegeta glanced around, making sure there was nothing to fear. His thick tail wrapped and unwrapped around his waist repeatedly before simply curling behind him. Leaving his semi-comfortable pallet on the floor behind him, Vegeta moved to stand near the bed.  
  
The short Saiyajin shook his head. Even while having a nightmare, Yamcha was appealing. Long, dark lashes fluttered delicately against a scarred cheek. Soft, pale lips were parted, allowing for the heavier breathing and slight animal sounds of fear to entrance the room into stillness. Vegeta could smell the wine still evident on the scarred human's breath, and the sweat covering his body. Yes, very appealing.  
  
So very appealing, it was causing very predictable affects on his body. Vegeta wanted to curse as his lower body became heavy with need, but he remained silent. He could control himself. He knew he could.  
  
Then Yamcha had to test his control by turning from his position where he lay on his side, to that of laying on his back, kicking some of the covers away. Vegeta stopped breathing. When did Yamcha remove all his clothing?  
  
But there was a thin line of cloth, just peeking out from under the sheets to show that Yamcha did indeed have clothes on. Vegeta flushed as he tried to regain his wits and breath. And the human was still making those incredibly... arousing animal whimpering sounds, which did not help Vegeta's mind at all. In fact, they made everything worse.  
  
With his dark eyes trained to the low riding line of clothing, he couldn't help but notice that his earlier assumption was incorrect. Yamcha wasn't having a nightmare. Or, if he was, it was one that was leaving the human hard with need. Vegeta licked his lips in anxiety. He was hard. Yamcha was hard. What would happen if Yamcha woke up right then, and saw him watching?  
  
With a sensuous moan, Yamcha arched slightly off the bed, peddling his feet against the mattress. Vegeta bit his lip and looked around. Should he wake up the human? If he didn't, there was no way he'd get any sleep.  
  
"Vegeta..." Yamcha groaned, pulling the short saiyajin's attention back to him.  
  
Sighing softly, he sat down and the bed dipped to allow for his weight. Without thought, Vegeta scooped the human up into a loose embrace, offering security against the dream. Brown, sleep befuddled eyes opened to gaze up at the prince.  
  
"Vegeta?"  
  
"Yes," The guard replied softly, crinkling his nose at the distinct smell of wine on the human's breath. He shifted their positions, trying to get more comfortable. In the end, he found himself sitting on the bed cross- legged, with Yamcha in his lap. He wanted to hold the human like this, wanted to simply hold him like he did when they were sleeping together.  
  
"Please..." Yamcha begged, snuggling closer to the shorter male, blurry eyes blinking open before closing again. "Please. I know you hate me, but please, just... just touch me."  
  
"What?" Vegeta asked, shocked.  
  
"Please."  
  
Very delicately, Vegeta stroked the human's scarred cheek. He wasn't really sure what was expected of him. Was this some kind of strange ritual thing that happened in his dimension? But why call out for him? Was it because he was there? He watched in wary fascination as Yamcha grabbed his hand as it rested along his scarred flesh. The human pulled the hand away and pushed upward. Vegeta's eyes widened in complete shock as Yamcha kissed him. He recovered quickly, though, allowing his eyes to fall half shut as he returned the passionate expression.  
  
He felt scarred skin slide under his fingertips as Yamcha forced his hand down his abdomen, but his senses were mainly focused on the kiss. The taste. The heat. The feel. The pleasure of having Yamcha tasting him at the same time. And then his hand reached its destination, and too late Vegeta realized exactly what Yamcha had been asking for. Almost as a reflex, his hand closed over the gift presented to him. Yamcha broke the kiss and let his head roll back with a groan of utmost pleasure.  
  
Vegeta hissed in a sharp breath of air as Yamcha began to writhe in his lap, rubbing against his own hard arousal. The short saiyajin clenched his teeth tightly as he allowed himself the opportunity to touch Yamcha through the sleep wear, to bring him to completion, to take what he wanted in some small way. His sharp breathy gasps from Yamcha's movements were the only sound he made as his climax approached him, but they were covered over with the soft, ragged cries that Yamcha made. His feral grin went unnoticed as Yamcha moved under his touch, following his whim as if born to do so. The human was practically a slave to whatever Vegeta wanted to do to him at that moment, and Vegeta knew it. But the only thing he wanted to do was to take, to have the human. The need was almost too basic for thought, something that was at the same level as the need for food and air.  
  
Yamcha's liquid pleasure splattered forth, staining scarred flesh, just as he went completely boneless. Gingerly, Vegeta lay the human down on the bed and then proceeded to end his own torment. The guard's seed spilt onto Yamcha's body, mixing with the other's.  
  
"Mmmm...Vegeta..." Yamcha purred as Vegeta clutched him closer, "Don't tell Bulma..."  
  
"Don't tell her what?" Vegeta asked breathlessly, trying to regain some form of control.  
  
"She'd kill me if she found out," Yamcha replied through a large yawn. "I love you."  
  
Vegeta forgot how to breathe.  
  
When he realized that Yamcha was truly asleep, he found his wits returning to him. Yamcha loved him? Why would Mistress Bulma care? But wait... Was it really him that the human loved, or his alter? Vegeta's thick brown tail wrapped securely around his waist. Was he to simply be a stand-in for the stronger, more arrogant prince that Yamcha wanted?  
  
Was he to be everyone's bitch?!  
  
Dark eyes filled with unshed tears as Vegeta accepted that, yes, that was probably what he was destined for. He ducked his head away in shame, but turned back to look at the peacefully sleeping human. Tears tracked their way down royal cheeks as Vegeta discovered that he was still able to cry. He had found yet another reason. Defeated, the saiyajin leaned down and began to lick off all the evidence of their actions. Yamcha didn't need to wake up dirty.  
  
And besides, he was a dog. Dogs were supposed to lick things clean...  
  
Shortly thereafter, Vegeta stumbled back to his pallet and collapsed. He was above sobbing, but that didn't stop him from crying himself to sleep.  
  
***  
  
Trunks snuggled closer to the warm body pressed against his, comfortable in the fact that it was a familiar smell, safe in the knowledge that it was someone he trusted. His purple tail wrapped around him and the other person, allowing him to press closer to the sense of security. He felt a strong arm shift around him, allowing him to get that much closer.  
  
He knew who the arm belonged to. A ghost of a smile formed on Trunks' face as he inhaled the lavender shampoo scent of 17's hair. There was also the smell of the wine that the dark-haired android had brought with him from the party. While 17 had only had one glass's worth, Trunks had finished off the bottle. It had been fun to simply sit in the room and talk, joking about what was undoubtedly going on in some people's minds at the party. Trunks grinned, the buzz well and truly away but the memories there to stay.  
  
It had been a long time since he had actually shared a bed with anyone, let alone 17, though when he was younger, there wasn't a night that he didn't sleep in the raven-haired android's bed. It was one of the few places he was safe. He felt secure in the humanoid's embrace, a feeling that was a rarity. With another shift of their bodies, Trunks felt their bodies press against each other, as if they had both been trying to align themselves up as perfectly as they could get. That's when he felt something else, something that woke him with a muffled cry of panic. He pushed away from 17 quickly, blue eyes wide. His lavender hair spread out as he slid away, and his tail quickly pulled back behind him. He hated the quaver in his voice as he asked, "17?"  
  
"Yes?" 17 said as he slid his eyes open slowly.  
  
"Um.17?" Trunks began again, his breathing a bit faster than it needed to be, as 17 wasn't making any kind of overt move. "You're um. hard."  
  
"I am aware of this," 17 replied softly, brushing some his hair out of his face absently. Without being bound, the dark mass seemed to take every opportunity to get in his way.  
  
"Is that a morning thing?" Trunks asked, prayed. He didn't know what he'd do if it wasn't. He liked 17, but he was so tired of being hurt. So tired of being people's meat. Granted, if 17 wanted him, the royal guard could have taken him at any time. Did that mean that 17 didn't want him? The mere sliver of thought that suggested it depressed Trunks to the point of tears. Simply stated, he wanted 17 to want him. And if that meant giving himself up to whatever it was the android wanted, then he would go through with it. Trunks waited with a pounding heart for 17's answer.  
  
"No," the blue-eyed android replied after a short pause. He didn't want to scare Trunks any more than the demi-saiyajin already was, but he also knew that he didn't want to lie to him. "It is not a 'morning thing' as you say. It is, however, a natural reaction."  
  
"Natural reaction?" Trunks asked. He forced himself to begin to breathe slower, trying to calm himself.  
  
"Yes. A natural reaction."  
  
"To what?"  
  
17 blinked his eyes twice, slowly, before answering, "To having a gorgeous individual rubbing their body against mine for the past hour and a half."  
  
Trunks' lips formed an 'O' shape as he reeled in shock from that statement. 17 thought he was. attractive? After a few minutes of otherwise quiet, Trunks had gathered his mind enough to ask, "Do you want to. I mean, the others." He was at a complete loss for words, never having said anything like what he was about to say. But by the growing frown on 17's otherwise calm features, he knew he had to say what he was trying to say, or things might get worse. "If you want. I mean, I'd let you if you wanted to."  
  
"Let me.?" 17 asked, not sure he understood, not completely sure he wanted to understand.  
  
"I'd let you. I wouldn't fight. I promise," Trunks said softly, worried. "I mean, I know you could take me-"  
  
"NO!" 17 said as he sat up in bed. "Lights, dim!"  
  
Suddenly, the dark room was illuminated by a very dim glow that showed 17 sitting with one arm propped on an upraised knee, the other arm straight to allow the android to look down at the demi-saiyajin who was just staring up at him with blue eyes.  
  
"I am NOT going to TAKE you like the OTHERS do," 17 said with emphasis. How could Trunks even -suggest- something like that? That he would -ever- take advantage of Trunks -- even if the demi-saiyajin said he would -let- him -- was unfathomable to the android. Anger furiously exploded through his whole being. He didn't want Trunks to simply -let- 17 take him. He wanted Trunks to want him. Even if 17, himself, wasn't entirely sure how capable he was of... Trunks would understand that he was different from everyone else. And not just in the synthetic way. "I may not be organic anymore, but I still have my pride! I will only take those that are WILLING to my bed, not coerced or forced! I refuse to inflict pain for something that should be pleasurable."  
  
Trunks blinked in surprise. He had never seen 17 this angry at him. He wondered if the android knew his eyes were glowing. Pushing that thought to the side and plowing forward with his earlier offer, "But it wouldn't really be like the others. I mean, I won't fight you. And you could have your pleasure."  
  
The dark-haired male huffed a sigh as he shook his head. "No, Trunks. I am not going to be another of your rapists. I refuse to be."  
  
"But. you can't rape the willing," Trunks said, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Please, 17. Let me do this for you."  
  
Synthetic eyes met organic, the red glow slowly bleeding out of 17's eyes. The android had no real idea what to do, for in all honesty, he wasn't sure what was supposed to happen during sex. He couldn't remember -not- being an android, and since he had become synthetic he was a little leery of having sex. He wasn't even sure if his scalp itched or if it was phantom pains! How was he supposed to know if something was pleasurable or not? What if he couldn't feel pleasure anymore? He let out a shaky sigh. He knew, though, that he couldn't reject Trunks' offer. One, Trunks had offered, and it was probably the first time the lavender-haired male had done so. Rejecting that offer would be disastrous, not only to their relationship, but also to Trunks' pride and self-esteem, or what little there was of it. Two, 17 wanted Trunks, wanted him on levels that he didn't even admit to himself because the depth of it all scared him. Scared him like nothing, not even death or torture, did.  
  
Nodding his head slowly, 17 agreed. "All right, Trunks. If you insist."  
  
"I do," Trunks said adamantly, terrified but sure. He raised himself up as well, not really sure of where to go or what to do, but knowing that if he did this then he could still be safe. At least for a while.  
  
"All right. Wait here," 17 said as he climbed out of bed. Trunks watched with interest, noticing the way the other male moved in his satin sleep pants. He had on a pair of his own, borrowed from the guard. 17 returned quickly, placing a small plate filled with something on the floor, near where his scouter rested. He then climbed back under the sheets and laid down on his side. Trunks laid down on his back, his head turned to look at the dark-haired android. They rested like that for a good few minutes, until 17 began to softly laugh.  
  
Trunks was somewhat used to people laughing at him before, during, and after what was to come. He had never thought that 17 would laugh at him, but it was not completely out of the norm for him. A purple tail made a soft 'thwap' under the sheets. He was afraid, but he was going to go through with this.  
  
The android smiled as he shook the laughter away. They were both practically virgins! And here they were, trying to decide what to do next. The blind leading the blind! It was one of those situations where a person either cried from the sadness or laughed from the pathetic-ness. Moving as slowly, gently as he could, he moved one hand to rest on Trunks' abdomen. And there it rested. Blue eyes met blue, waiting for whatever it was that was coming.  
  
Trunks was taken completely off guard when 17 closed the distance between them, still not doing anything other than touching him. The dark-haired man leaned over the hybrid, letting his dark hair fall wherever it wished. The hand resting on Trunks' abdomen skimmed up pale flesh, until it cupped the younger man's jaw. As 17 leaned down, Trunks closed his eyes.  
  
The merest brush of lips was what 17 was after. He wanted to feel the pale pink lips of the younger man under his, but only just barely. And he did. Amazingly, he did. But he wasn't sure if the pleasure was real, or if it was all in his imagination. Gently, he rested his closed lips against Trunks', being as careful as he could. Parting his lips slightly, he flicked out his tongue, tasting. And he could taste, which he was ever so thankful for. He had not lost his sense of smell or taste when he was transformed from organic.  
  
Trunks had never been kissed, not really. With his eyes closed, he didn't know what was going on, but he did know where 17 was, and that was all that really mattered. Confused, he parted his lips, wondering where this was supposed to be going. His breath stuttered as he felt 17's tongue slip into his mouth, deftly slipping out again. And then the tongue was back, only this time it remained long enough for Trunks to get brave enough to try and taste it with his own.  
  
When Trunks began to return the kiss, 17 let his hand slowly begin to stroke the youth's body, much like petting a favored pet. He brushed the long, lavender hair out of the way, savoring the texture of the strands as they slipped through his fingers. He caressed Trunks' long body, finding places that made the paler male gasp with shocked pleasure. He marked those places in his head, knowing he would return to them for later inspection. He was very pleased when he felt an over eager tail wrap around his thigh, bringing him closer.  
  
Trunks concentrated on the kiss, the taste of 17. He could still taste some of the wine they had indulged in, but there was a taste under that which was completely foreign and yet exotically wonderful. He didn't know what he was supposed to do, where his hands were supposed to go, but he really wanted to bury them in 17's hair to keep the darker male from leaving him, abandoning him. He gripped the sheets in confusion and vexation. He could feel a hand exploring his bare skin, never going below the pants line. But if this was going to lead to the inevitable, then eventually someone was going to have to remove their pants. When he felt that strong hand on his tail, petting him softly, he sighed into the kiss, angling his head to the side to get better access to the aggressive mouth over him.  
  
From where he was laying, 17 could feel that their delicate foreplay was slowly arousing Trunks, which was the intent. The dark-haired male broke off the kiss and began to nip and taste his way to the younger male's ear. He bit down lightly, flicking his tongue over the lobe. He was rewarded with a slight giggle from the lavender-haired youth. "If you want, you can touch me, too."  
  
Blue eyes flew open at that. No one had ever, ever wanted him to touch them! No one! Shyly, he raised his hands and rested them on the muscled chest of the dominating male. Cautiously, he began to explore 17's body even as the android began to tease and torment him with a treacherous mouth. Even with the distraction of being able to explore 17's body, or perhaps because of it, Trunks soon found his body moving to intercept 17's caress. He wasn't even aware of when he began to writhe, but he knew he needed the android's touch, needed it like he needed air to breathe. Though, it seemed the air in the room was in short supply because he was gasping it in. "17?"  
  
"Hmm? Yes?" the dark-haired male replied, taking his time by dipping his head and running his tongue over the hollow of Trunks' throat, trying to taste as much as he could.  
  
"Um," Trunks began, suddenly at a loss for words. Where was he going with this? And then he remembered, "Um, don't you think we should, um."  
  
17 grinned as the demi-saiyajin whimpered in pleasure. Hands that had been exploring him had stilled before gripping his shoulders tightly. 17 looked up, taking notice of the flushed features before him. He knew Trunks was aroused, but not sure if it was enough. Grinning he leaned up and kissed the already parted lips presented to him, happier than he had ever been when Trunks returned the kiss hungrily.  
  
Trunks couldn't stop his body's natural reaction of bucking up against 17, and he was already too aroused to be embarrassed about it. He was afraid, but only slightly. What 17 was doing to him felt too good to be too wrong. And when the only reaction Trunks got for his action was a deepening of the kiss, he began to move under the darker male more, trying to appease the natural demand for friction. Too soon, 17 broke the kiss to stare down at him, dark hair spilling down like a curtain to block out what dim light there was.  
  
"One moment," the royal guard said, and turned to grab something off the floor. He returned before Trunks actually processed the statement, holding two small, soft beads of. something. He placed them in a hand he had to pry off his shoulder. "Hold these in your hand."  
  
"What are they?" Trunks asked.  
  
"Lotion beads," 17 replied, a bright smile shining forth in the darkness. "Crush them in your palms when you're ready."  
  
"Ready?" Trunks asked. He was having a hard time thinking, especially with his body still wanting to move and all. "Ready for what?"  
  
"I. I want you to touch yourself," 17 answered. He wasn't really sure how to say it, so he hoped that he had done it right.  
  
"Touch myself?" Trunks grinned slightly, not really comprehending. Surely 17 was going to--  
  
"Here," 17 said as he pressed down on the bulge in Trunks' sleep pants, effectively cutting off all thought processes in the lavender-haired male. Lacking any kind of control, Trunks automatically thrust up into the touch with a startled gasp. "I want you to touch yourself here."  
  
"But." Trunks began, not really sure what he was protesting, just knowing that he was. At 17's shaking head, He began to obey the request. He nearly tore his pants in his haste to get them open. When they were finally undone, he pushed them down to his thighs, freeing his aching sex. He was startled to realize that there was already moisture forming on its head. His eyes flickered between his own erection and 17's blue eyes, back and forth with uncertainty. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he crushed the delicate beads in his hands, letting the slick substance fill his palm. With eyes only for 17, the shivering half-breed began to touch himself slowly. His eyes fell shut again, giving in to the soft pleasure that seeped through his bloodstream. His shivering increased as he heard 17's dark voice begin whispering things to him, impossible things, about how brave he was, how beautiful, how strong, how lovely. Trunks shook his head, trying to deny what the other was saying, but the android captured his mouth in another mind-blowing kiss.  
  
Trunks soon degenerated into jerking, confused movements that he couldn't control. He kept waiting for 17 to tell him to stop, that he was going to take over. But as the moments progressed, something strange and terrifyingly wonderful began to tighten inside of him and Trunks was mindless to whatever consequences might occur if he simply gave in to it. He sought out the one responsible for his situation, clinging to the synthetic male with his mouth, his tail tightening its hold around its captured thigh. The closer he came to whatever was waiting for him, the more terrified he became of it, yet the more he wanted it. He began to sob in frustrated fear, not understanding what was happening to him.  
  
"Hush, hush," 17 murmured encouragingly as he continued to pet the other male. "Relax, my love. Relax. Let it come."  
  
Trunks did as 17 said, arching his neck with pleasure. His first climax claimed him completely, blinding him. He cried out in surprise, shock, and utmost ecstasy. When the world snatched him back, he landed easily, contentedly in 17's arms. His breathing was labored, and when he wiped away his tears, he smeared his face with other, stranger substances. He rested there, cradled by the bed and by the dark-haired guard, almost boneless.  
  
"Good?" 17 asked as he pulled a red cloth from somewhere and began cleaning the still trembling male up.  
  
Trunks could only nod his head, wonderment in his eyes. He didn't even flinch when 17 removed the borrowed pants from where they were around his knees, leaving him completely naked. When he finally caught his breath, he began to talk, "What. what about you? Your turn now?"  
  
"No. Now we sleep," 17 said as he flung his old bandana to the corner of the room.  
  
"But, what about your pleasure?" Trunks asked, his eyelids already falling shut. He could still feel the android's arousal pressed into him.  
  
"I'll take pleasure in just holding you, like this, for as long as I can," 17 replied as he shifted them both to an equally comfortable position. He was left with Trunks tucked tightly against him. The curious lavender tail wrapped lazily around them both as much as it could. He smiled as he listened to the deep breathing that signaled Trunks was well and truly asleep.  
  
The royal guard was uncertain of his future. He was unsure if he was able to well and truly feel pleasure, though he retained the ability to sense touch, taste, and smell. He was unclear as to what life had been like for him before he was turned into an android. But one thing was certain, and amazingly clear for the guard.  
  
He loved Trunks.  
  
The rest of the world be damned.  
  
***  
  
Goten's mind slowly became aware that he was slipping out of the pleasant unconsciousness of sleep and back into the harshness of reality. And it was all because his bladder had decided to make its overly full presence known. He knew he had to get to a restroom eventually, but he was just so incredibly comfortable, more comfortable than he'd ever been in his life. All he wanted to do was go back to sleep and revel in that coziness. But he understood his bladder wouldn't let that happen.  
  
Forcing his eyes open, Goten saw nothing but darkness. Taking a deep breath to give him the energy he knew he would need to break out of his languid state, Goten noticed a strange scent, one he knew for a fact was not in his room.  
  
The smell of Piccolo.  
  
The scent was better than the jet fuel served at breakfast to wake up the house. Dark eyes went wide as Goten became acutely aware that the warmth he was feeling was coming from a muscled body that lay directly in front of him. Taking extreme care, Goten moved his hand slightly, trying to discover where it was exactly.  
  
Upon discovery of his hand resting on a firm chest, the small prince became aware of where other parts and appendages were located, not only of himself, but also of the green man with whom he was sharing the bed.  
  
'Green?' the demi-saiyajin thought. He angled his face up a bit to peer at the face of the man before him. He ceased breathing when he immediately recognized him. 'Oh, gods! Piccolo!'  
  
Looking back down, his eyes became larger. They were face-to-face, close. Goten had one leg draped over Piccolo's upper thigh, with that thigh resting between his legs. His traitorous tail had wound itself across them both, snugly keeping the green male pulled in to the prince. Piccolo's strong arms did the rest of the work, having wrapped around his waist in a warm embrace. Nevertheless, there were two things that caused Goten to blush furiously. One, he was completely naked. And two, he had a raging hard on unlike any he'd ever had in his life.  
  
Just then, Piccolo shifted slightly, causing Goten's erection to rub against him. Goten shuddered a little then frowned. What was that he'd felt? Peeking down, he saw the front of Piccolo's black pants tenting somewhat. Was he aroused too? He was! Goten's blush grew deeper as his confusion heightened. How was he supposed to handle this? He'd never awoken with another person in bed with him, let alone a person he greatly desired. On top of that, he was naked, hard, and ridiculously entwined with the other man. Plus, he had to use the restroom. Whereas earlier he'd felt nothing but the utmost in comfort, he now panicked. What was he going to do? Should he wake Piccolo up? Try to sneak off? What were his best options?  
  
"Good morning," greeted an impossibly deep voice from above his head.  
  
Goten jumped a bit, startled. His face flushed hotter all over again, creeping down his chest. "Morning," he responded quietly.  
  
Piccolo glanced down, only too aware of the proximity and condition of their nether regions. But when he saw the plain mortification on Goten's face, he couldn't help but smirk a little. And take advantage of that while he was at it. His arms constricted around the demi-saiyajin, pressing their bodies tightly together as Piccolo continued to smirk at the blushing prince. "Did you sleep well, Goten?" he inquired, adding a sultry tone to his already deep voice.  
  
"Y-ye-yes," Goten breathed, squirming in his grip. As he moved, he began to wish that he could simply remain still because he ended up simply shifting back and forth between two positions, each equally. suggestive. He tried moving the leg that was draped over Piccolo's thigh, but he didn't know where it should go, so he simply let it rub up and down, trying to find another resting place. He looked down at how his body was moving, glaring at it to make it obey his mental commands to, 'Stop moving!' But, alas, when his body finally quieted, he found himself amazingly closer to the stronger male, if that was somehow possible.  
  
Piccolo closed his eyes as Goten moved against him, silently willing his body to calm itself. While he was asleep, he had less control over more natural reactions. But he was awake now. He opened his eyes just in time for the prince to look up at him with overly large eyes. The green male touched his nose to the younger man's. Piccolo realized that if either one of them tilted their head just a fraction, they could kiss. But that was something he would not do. 'At least not yet,' a voice in his head told him. Piccolo forcefully pushed that annoying voice to the very back of his mind. "And how are you now?"  
  
"I-I-I," sputtered the youth. 'I'm harder than I have ever been in my entire life and wondering if you're going to kiss me,' Goten thought to himself. He really hoped it was to himself, but one could never really be sure. Sometimes, it seemed that Piccolo could read minds, but no one had mentioned if he could or not. The prince opened his mouth a few more times, but nothing came out, or at least nothing as intelligible as speech. He clicked his mouth shut as he tried to gather his wits, and then licked his lips before he began again. "I--I need to go to the restroom."  
  
Chuckling, Piccolo rolled away from Goten, allowing the demi-saiyajin hop out of the bed and take a sheet with him. As the younger prince wrapped the sheet around his body, he was aware of Piccolo watching him with a devilish smirk on his face. His tail didn't know what to do with itself, so it was busy getting tangled up in his makeshift toga, simply adding to Goten's embarrassment. His brown eyes darted to Piccolo as the green man reclined on his bed, simply watching him. Goten didn't understand how, but it seemed that having an audience to watch him walk the five feet to the water closet caused his nerves to completely fizzle out on him. He knew, just -knew-, that his cheeks were going to be stained a permanent flush the rest of his life from this.  
  
Piccolo's smirk held back the laughter he wanted to give in to. 'He's very cute like that,' Piccolo decided. He couldn't help that his grin turned into a full-fledged smile as Goten tripped over the end of the sheet, cursing softly even as his hands shook to pick the treacherous cloth out of the way. He was still smiling as Goten opened the door to the small lavatory, checking over his shoulder to see if Piccolo was still watching him. When Piccolo turned his smiling face away, he heard Goten make some kind of choked sound before the sheet fell to the ground.  
  
Finally, the prince returned to the bedroom, the sheet secured around him once again. His eyes were cast to the floor, until he noticed his toes were sticking out from under the sheet, and he thought that they looked rather childish. Since he couldn't do anything about that, he turned his attention to the rest of the room, trying his best to avoid looking directly at Piccolo. He was entirely too flustered to think straight, and he wasn't all that sure what he was supposed to say. They hadn't actually had sex or anything, yet it seemed to be more of an intimate moment than he had ever had to deal with before. He took a deep breath, forced himself to stand up to his full height, and dared to look at Piccolo. "I think, um," he started, "that maybe it's time to start the day. Get dressed and all."  
  
"Are you going to wear your dress uniform for the day?" Piccolo asked. He acknowledged that he was teasing the younger male, and that he really should stop before someone got hurt, but it was so tempting to continue to play. He had never really played before, not without there being some aspect of training behind it. It was nice to simply tease. Especially since it got such entertaining reactions from his victim. He wasn't sure he understood his reasons for continuing down this path, changing whatever relationship they had into something else, but he knew he wanted it. Needed it. Just as Goten needed the change. Granted, it wasn't something that could be put into words, but it was there nonetheless.  
  
Goten spied his uniform from the night before haphazardly strewn across 17's cot-like bed. "I... don't have anything else to wear, so, I'll have to wear it at least until I can get my regular uniform."  
  
"Come here," Piccolo ordered. The demi-saiyajin obeyed without question. He could not stop himself from doing as the other commanded. It was. automatic. He didn't really understand his knee-jerk obedience, but he went with it, trusted it. That's when he realized that he trusted Piccolo. He trusted Piccolo! He, the Royal Inquisitor, the resident spy, trusted someone! His eyes went slightly wild as his mind raced to deal with this sudden insight. He looked at the bed, and then at the floor, and then up. He stood in front of the green male, his breathing speeding up. "Drop the sheet."  
  
"What? But...?" Goten fumbled for words. What did he mean 'drop the sheet'? He was naked without it! Sighing resignedly and blushing profusely, he released the sheet, letting it fall to pool on the floor around him. Chill bumps rose all over his body. His tail whipped through the air, as if it was glad to be rid of the offending sheet, as if standing in the nude was supposed to make him feel free, though all it did was make him feel inadequate. 'No, instead, he held me through the night while I was naked and vulnerable and didn't let go. What does that mean?' Goten pondered, as his tail curled low behind him in self-doubt and fear. He pushed the nagging thoughts away, focusing on the fact that Piccolo was still with him, still within touching distance. And that the green man didn't seem to be throwing him away. Well, at least not yet.  
  
Piccolo stepped forward and embraced Goten, staring down into the younger male's brown eyes. The flush in the prince's face deepened as he was drawn again to the green man's body. The closeness, the contact... It was almost too much for him to bear. Piccolo ran his hands lightly over the demi- saiyajin's back, eliciting a soft gasp from him. Suddenly, a faint glow engulfed him, and he was no longer naked. Stepping back, Piccolo gave him a confident smirk, and Goten looked down... at his normal daily uniform. "How did you...? How did you do that?" he queried.  
  
"It's just something I do." Piccolo shrugged. He snapped his fingers and his typical indigo gi appeared on himself.  
  
"You do this for your humans, too, don't you? You..." Goten swallowed hard to get the words out, to keep out of his voice the jealousy at the possibility of Piccolo touching either of them like that. He cocked his head to the side and peered at the taller male. His tail puffed slightly before calming, though it had yet to wrap around his waist. "Do you... hold them close, too?"  
  
Piccolo smirked as he bent his head down, his antenna burying into the short spikes of the Inquisitor's raven hair. The sensation caused the strangest reactions to course through Piccolo's entire body, something that was not unpleasant, but completely unexpected. He bent so low that his lips were almost brushing Goten's ear, and he made sure that his hot breath skimmed over the younger male's flesh. "I don't have to touch a person to create the clothing, and I have no interest in touching either of them," stated the green man. "I just did that for you. I like seeing you blush."  
  
He couldn't stop the shivers that were caused by the words, or the tone of the words. He inhaled deeply, as if offended and wanted to retort, but when he did so, he became overly conscious of Piccolo's scent. Goten's face reddened again, and he wondered if it was possible to stay conscious with so much blood rushing to his face. He wanted to lean forward, to rest his head on the shoulder in front of him, or to have Piccolo put his hands on him somehow or somewhere. Instead, he pushed away from the other male, trying to fight his body for control of the situation. He might have even retained some of his fleeting pride if he had managed a retort that would cause some degree of reaction in the green male similar to his own. He mumbled, "Tease."  
  
Piccolo only raised his head slightly as he continued to smirk at him.  
  
Shaking his head, Goten moved to the door and pressed the intercom code to contact Piccolo's regular guard. He loathed ending his time with the green male, but he did have work he needed to do. There would always be time to meet with him later. And Goten was certain there would be a later. There had to be. He'd make sure of it. Once the android answered the call, Goten spoke succinctly, all evidence of his shyness and awkwardness with Piccolo gone. "17, please report back to your post." 


	10. Consequences

Disclaimer: Summer and I do not own DBZ. Okay, I said it. I admitted it. Step one of my twelve-step program completed... Even if I still think we'd do a better job with DBZ. I got three words for you, Toriyama: Queer. As. Folk. Anyway, I want to thank you folks who've reviewed. Seriously, every single review, regardless of the content, means tons to us. Please keep reviewing. And a special shout out to Raidne for being so in depth. That makes our day any day.  
  
Warning: Yaoi. What more warning do you need?  
  
Kingdom Come  
  
~ Chapter 10  
  
A small smile formed on 17's lips.  
  
The first day of tournament was finally over, but the festival outside was just beginning. The first day was dedicated to the preliminary heats, getting the useless fighters out of the way. The tournament itself would last the rest of the week. During the preliminaries, the general populace was forbidden from observing so they began a street party, which, coincidentally, lasted the full week that the tournament lasted and was celebrated all over the globe and galactic empire. For those interested, the tournament fights would be televised to even the farthest planets under Lord Kakarrot's reign.  
  
On the second day of the tournaments, the first stage would occur. Each stage of the contest would get its own day, with the final day holding only one fight, but the most anticipated. The dark haired android was scheduled for an exhibition fight against his sister, which was to bisect the first stage of the tournament, probably occurring mid-day on the morrow.  
  
But none of that was the reason for the self-satisfied smirk.  
  
He was lying in bed, propped up on a stack of pillows. The walls of his room silenced the noise from the outside revelry, allowing peace to rule. He was in his favored black sleep pants and nothing else. His hair was loose, yet remained remarkably out of his way. And Trunks was with him.  
  
Trunks was in just a pair of pants, the rest of his dingy clothes making a small pile in the corner. He was laying on his side, his head propped up, and his tail curled loosely behind him. He knew he was looking at 17 rather stupidly, but he couldn't help it. He was just so. amazed that 17 wanted him as well as was with him.  
  
It was so strange that 17 had the evening off. Since security was always extremely tight with the tournament, Lord Kakarrot dismissed all the guards guarding the guests. And then Lord Kakarrot retired early to Mistress Bulma's bed chambers, leaving 17 with time on his hands. Time the android gladly spent.  
  
In his room. With Trunks.  
  
"So, I don't think the S'lon warrior is going to survive." 17 sighed, going over some of the heats he had witnessed earlier. "Though, I will say this for Vegeta. He was unusually angry, and put that rage to good use: into the fights. Fights, I might add, that were stacked against him. Unfortunately, winning did nothing to improve his disposition."  
  
"I wonder what he's angry at," Trunks conjectured, moving so that he could rest his head on 17's thigh. "I mean, he's obviously getting stronger. And he's made it to the first stage. You would think he'd be happy."  
  
"I have no idea what is going through his head, Trunks, and quite honestly, I have no interest," 17 said as he stroked his fingers through long lavender strands.  
  
"Well, I'm interested. I was hoping that he and Yamcha might hit it off. After how nice the human was, and going through all that trouble to see Vegeta, you'd think my father would be grateful. Or at least in a good mood. And he was for a while. I think when Lord Kakarrot came back was when father became so sullen. Don't you?" Trunks asked, closing his eyes. His body got goose bumps of pleasure when 17 played with his hair.  
  
"I think. that they are unsure of where they stand with each other," the android replied carefully. His brow furrowed in absent concentration. It took more effort to think when he was like this with Trunks, touching him and simply relaxing. He didn't really want to talk, but he didn't know what else he could do. So, he did his best to analyze the situation as best he could. "They seem to do a great deal of looking at each other, as if they aren't really sure who or what to make of the other person, or if they know something that the other doesn't. Like a secret that doesn't please them, and they each know a different secret."  
  
"Huh," Trunks said, letting that roll through his mind. Then he grinned. "Maybe. I dunno. I -DO- know that Piccolo sure impressed a lot of people today. I mean, wow! He went through his opponents like a laser-blade through tofu!"  
  
"Yes. I had a few sparring sessions with him before the preliminaries. He's quite good. I think he will have no trouble with the tournament itself, and I do believe that he has a good shot of winning. Heh. A great many spectators formed around the areas where he was fighting," 17 agreed, his grin mirroring that of the younger man in his lap. "And did you see the look of outright astonishment on Prince Gohan's face?! That was so priceless! I think the princes are beginning to understand that Piccolo is a bit more than they had thought at first. And when the final bout comes, I do believe that Piccolo will be triumphant."  
  
"No, I didn't get to see that. I was hiding on the other side of the stadium. I did, however, see the smug look on Prince Goten's face. And I also noticed that no matter where Piccolo was, Prince Goten was close by as well, but not too close, unless there was a match that he was in. You know, I think he already knows that Piccolo is more than what he seems. As for winning, well, there is still Prince Gohan to face, and he'll do everything he can to win." Trunks sighed, stretching languidly, causing even his tail to pop and crack. "I'll never forget that stupid Karinian announcer as he made the comment about how Piccolo's longest bout lasted a whole minute."  
  
"You heard that?" 17 asked, surprised. The comment hadn't been broadcasted.  
  
"Well, yeah," Trunks grinned. "I have my ways."  
  
"I'm sure you do," 17 replied, still grinning.  
  
Looking up at the android, Trunks appeared pensive for a moment. "Do you think he's changed? Goten, I mean. What do you think?"  
  
The raven-headed male brushed a fair lock of hair away from the demi- saiyajin's eyes. "It's possible," he stated. "I think he's changing. I've heard things... whispered about in the palace, as I'm sure you have. They say that sometimes, when he thinks no one is looking, they can catch him daydreaming. Yet, when it comes to his work, he's still as ruthless as ever."  
  
"It's Piccolo," Trunks nodded swiftly. "I'm absolutely positive that Goten is in love with him."  
  
"Yes, I suppose," conceded the other man. "He does look at him a certain way."  
  
"Do you think he's in love with him?"  
  
"Lord Piccolo is a strong, intelligent man. His mere presence commands respect," 17 pointed out. "If Prince Goten ever were to fall in love, it would only be with someone such as him."  
  
Trunks toyed with the hem of the android's pants as he asked, "Do you--do you think Piccolo would ever love him back?"  
  
"For Prince Goten's sake, I hope so," sighed 17.  
  
"Say, 17," the lavender-haired youth said, a small sly smile creeping onto his face. "They spent the night together a few weeks ago, didn't they? Piccolo and Goten. That night we first..." Trunks trailed off with an intense blush. When the android nodded his head, the demi-saiyajin continued. "Did they...? Could you tell if they...? I was just wondering..."  
  
"They didn't have sexual intercourse," he answered. "I don't think either of them are whorish enough to do something like that so soon."  
  
"17?" Trunks began, a slight frown appearing.  
  
"Yes?" the dark-haired android asked, still running his hands through Trunks' hair.  
  
"Do you think I'm a whore?"  
  
"What!?!" 17 asked, completely taken off guard. His wide eyes blinked in startled confusion at the worried gaze directed at him.  
  
"I mean, I know my mom's a whore and all, and I know that a lot of people have slept with me--" Trunks began, sitting up. His cheeks were red with shame. He knew he wasn't respectable or anything. In fact, he knew he wasn't anything, really. He was nothing. And he didn't want to be nothing. But he also didn't want to be a whore. He was about to go on and state his case, but a hand pressed over his mouth stopped him.  
  
The dark haired male rested his hand over Trunks' mouth until he was able to think of how to respond to that question. It was just so. wrong! When he realized that his thoughts were only going in circles, he shifted his hand so that he was able to brush his thumb across worried lips. "Trunks. I know for a fact that you are NOT a whore. Your mother is the royal concubine, not a whore, either. You are the son of the true Prince of Saiyajins. Your mother is Mistress Bulma. Either way you look at it, you are a product of very good breeding. Next, you have not slept with a lot of people. I know this. You have been RAPED by a lot of people. There is a difference. You are their victim, not their lover."  
  
Trunks accepted what 17 said mutely, his mind too focused on the caress of thumb over lips. He pulled his head back slightly, so that he might retort, but he discovered he was unable to meet 17's eyes. He whispered, "Well. Okay. But. If I'm not a whore, then how come all I can think about is that night? How come I get. How come I get hard just thinking about how you kissed me? And touched me? If I'm not a whore, then how come I feel like one?"  
  
"You do?" 17 smiled. He wanted to throw his head back and laugh with joy at the admission, but he knew that would just scare Trunks away. Instead, he brushed his hands through long lavender hair and pulled Trunks close. He closed his eyes as he brushed his lips against the already parted demi- saiyajin's lips. And then the kiss was sealed, and 17 allowed himself to sink into the moment, trying to savor it. He had no need for food. He really didn't need to breath. But this. this he needed. He had wanted this since that night, but due to his schedule, and the influx of people into the area, he and Trunks were not able to see each other.  
  
Trunks moved so that he was straddling 17's lap, trying to get as close as he could to the other male. They kissed as if trying to taste each other's very essence. Trunks was dizzy when 17 pulled him away, though he was loathe to break the kiss. His tail snapped through the air as 17 moved to kiss his throat, making him shiver with pleasure. He was aching with need, but he didn't want to dissuade 17 from what he was doing. His hands buried in raven black hair, trying to anchor him in reality. "17?"  
  
"You aren't a whore, Trunks," 17 whispered into the younger male's ear, his hands rubbing over as much flesh as he could touch. "No more than I am. I've thought about that night a great deal. Gods, you have no idea how much. And I have the ability to replay that event in digital clarity. You. Gods, you're beautiful. I'm very, very pleased that you enjoy kissing me because I love kissing you. Tasting you. Touching you."  
  
"You do?" Trunks shuddered at the words, becoming intoxicated from the sensations coursing through him. He laid his head down on 17's shoulder, and then proceeded to nuzzle the android's neck. "Then. will you touch me? I mean, touch me like I did that night?"  
  
17 stilled as the words hit him. He pulled back a bit, gazing with blue, wonder filled eyes at the youth. "Do you really want me to?"  
  
"Yes," Trunks nodded. "Oh, yes. I want you to touch me everywhere."  
  
"You. enjoy my touching as well as my kisses?" 17 asked softly. This was all so strange. Simply too good to be true. "Even though I'm not organic?"  
  
"I do. I love how you feel, and how you make me feel," Trunks said as he blushed.  
  
17 nearly crowed. Instead, he grinned before he leaned down and captured Trunks' mouth for another feast. He was so ecstatic, so filled with pleasure and joy at his lover's confession that he was near overloading. With the younger male's help, he removed unnecessary pants. Gently, he laid the hybrid on his back, keeping the kiss. He wanted to do this right. He wanted this to be good for Trunks. He wanted to return at least half the rapture he felt.  
  
Trunks moaned into the kiss as he felt a strong hand cup him. His hips pushed further into the loose caress, demanding more attention. He was left gasping as 17 broke the kiss to scatter hot, open mouth kisses all over his porcelain white skin. His body bucked and writhed and demanded more. 17 gave him everything he wanted. And then some.  
  
"Trunks?" 17 asked, his voice soft with something that remained unsaid. He didn't know how he was going to please Trunks. He wanted to, but his own unvoiced concerns made him cautious. He didn't trust himself, not completely. He was so afraid of losing control with Trunks, so very afraid of hurting him.  
  
"Yes?" Trunks replied, tossing his head back as the hand gripping him tightened.  
  
"I want to taste you," 17 said. It was the only thing he could think of, the one thought that chased itself around and around his head. The desire to taste, to savor, the younger male. He had only seen it performed on others, never having taken part in the act himself. But he thought he understood how to do it. "May I?"  
  
Thinking that 17 was asking for another kiss, Trunks was hard-pressed, no pun intended, to deny the darker male. "Oh, gods yes."  
  
Trunks nearly screamed in shock and pleasure as he felt a hot tongue swipe across the tip of his sex. His world disappeared behind a glaze of white and light. He had been forced to perform this act on others, taking their engorged members into his mouth while they moved to choke and hurt him. But this was the first time such an act was performed on him. And it felt good. The lavender haired male gritted his teeth in pleasure as 17 nipped at his sex, scraping his teeth against sensitive skin. The android used his teeth, tongue, and mouth, and Trunks was beside himself with pleasure. His moans filled the room, shattered only by startled cries that the darker male would sometimes bring about.  
  
The synthetic male raised himself up slightly, a light smirk brushing across his features as he caught Trunks' glazed eyes. Blue eyes met blue. But not for long. 17 lowered his head, flicking his tongue to lap up the liquid already spilling forth. Trunks gasped, his hands clenching into fists filled with dark, raven hair. Blue eyes danced with evil delight as 17 slid his tongue down slightly, kissing with his lips the very tip of Trunks' sex. Wide eyes watched in amazement as 17 began to slide even further down. And then Trunks let his head fall back as 17's hot mouth took him in completely.  
  
"17?" Trunks asked, a slight hitch in his voice that made it sound like he was going through puberty all over again. His tail wrapped around 17's head like a furry crown.  
  
"Hmmm?" the android responded, not giving up his prize as easily as that. He was too pleased with himself to forfeit. The attempt at vocalization caused 17's throat to vibrate, which in turn caused the most delicious sensation to dance through Trunks.  
  
"Oh, gods. I gotta remember how to breathe." Trunks groaned. "Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe. Right? Breathing is good."  
  
17 couldn't help the dark chuckle that demanded release, but the laugh nearly caused him to choke. For revenge, he took up the younger man's breathing rhythm as his own. Each breath was his cue to move, and it was all he could do not to laugh as Trunks began to move with him, demanding each gesture before it was given. The demi-saiyajin was soon whimpering in need, which was music to the guard's ears. The lavender tail about the guard's head slipped down to simply curl over 17's bare back.  
  
Trunks couldn't quite believe what was occurring. If it was a dream, it was one from which he hoped never to awake. But as 17 continued to move over him, his mouth suckling him as if he were a rare dessert, he knew the dream was going to end. He could feel something beginning to claw through him, demanding freedom. And 17's movements were pulling it forth from wherever it had hidden previously. Before he knew what was really happening, Trunks felt his entire body shatter and turn liquid, spilling into 17's hungry mouth.  
  
Afterwards, when he was more aware of the world at large, he could only try to relearn how to breathe properly. He found that he was pressed against 17's body, the blankets around them. He snuggled closer, feeling 17's arousal pressed against him again. "When are you going to. take your pleasure?"  
  
"Later," 17 murmured. "I'll take it later. For now, let us rest. I have a match tomorrow. We need our sleep."  
  
"Heh. You don't need sleep, and I damn well know it," Trunks yawned. He raised his head, and kissed 17 again, tasting what remained of his spilt seed in 17's mouth, but not on the android's lips. It was as if the synthetic man had devoured every drop he could.  
  
When the kiss broke, 17 smiled slyly at his lover. "True enough. But I get to hold you all night long as -YOU- sleep. So, I think it's a good deal all the same."  
  
Trunks ducked his head, but not so that 17 was unable to see him blush with pleasure. With a deep sigh of contentment, Trunks relaxed against the other male, allowing his body to mold to fit against the android. As he drifted off to sleep, he thought sleepily of how it just seem right to be where he was right then.  
  
***  
  
The bedroom was dark and silent except for the snoring of Lord Kakarrot. Bulma lay next to him, curled up on her side, her eyes open and tired but not sleepy. She could still hear the raucous party raging in the palace though she and the emperor had decided to retire far earlier than usual. Ever since he'd come back from his purging 'vacation', the royal had been far more amorous at night. 'Hornier than a sixteen-year-old is more like it,' she thought to herself.  
  
She hated Lord Kakarrot. Hated him for destroying her planet, for turning her into a common whore. She'd been someone once! She'd been a scientist's daughter and budding scientist herself! She'd always been so smart. Sighing, she tucked a strand of blue hair behind her ear. 'But I wasn't smart enough to avoid this, was I?'  
  
Lord Kakarrot snored even louder for a brief moment then went back to his normally annoying snore. His brown tail wrapped around her small waist, pulling her closer to him somewhat. Bulma considered this man for a moment. He claimed to love her, swore she was the most wonderful and beautiful thing he'd ever beheld. And in the darkest corner of her heart, she believed him. Sometimes, he would be so tender and gentle with her; he would actually make love to her rather than roughly take her like a wild animal. She hated to admit it, but she sometimes liked it when they made love. It made her feel appreciated. However, those lovemaking sessions were rare, as Kakarrot was far more content to just have his way with her and be done with it. That never failed to remind her how much she did, in fact, hate him.  
  
And his sons. She hated them too. Gohan was terrible. Lord Kakarrot had allowed him to have her once many years ago, and the boy was a brute. He was so rough and forceful that she even preferred his bastard father to him. Bulma knew of how awful he was to everyone, but Kakarrot seemed to approve of his son's hateful ways. Not that she'd ever bothered to ask the emperor. And up until a few months ago, she'd hated his younger son, Goten, too.  
  
A light frown marred her otherwise flawless features. Trunks had said the younger prince had changed, and if she hadn't seen some evidence of that herself, she might not have been inclined to believe it. For one thing, he hadn't laid a finger on her lavender-haired son for months. And Trunks was Goten's favorite torture victim! Except for lately, she hadn't seen Trunks go by a single week since he was very small without having been tormented by the dark-haired demi-saiyajin.  
  
Bulma smirked a little when an odd memory presented itself once again in her mind. Prince Goten was sixteen years old, and his father had brought him to Bulma's room. Lord Kakarrot had intended his precious Bulma to be his younger son's first, since the youth had not been inclined to even so much as look at another soul sexually. But Goten had refused... adamantly refused. He was so livid that his father could even suggest such a thing that he actually got into a physical fight with the much larger and much stronger man. Goten had, of course, lost in the end, but Kakarrot didn't force him to bed the blue-haired human. They'd all decided Goten was just asexual, with no interest in physical pleasures. Bulma had a theory though, back then, that the youngest demi-saiyajin preferred males, and once Lord Piccolo had arrived on the scene, she'd found out her hypothesis was true.  
  
She'd been there the previous month at the party for Lord Kakarrot's return, and she'd watched the young prince with the green man very carefully. The way he acted, he looks he gave him, the smiles... Bulma had never even known Goten could smile in any other way than out of spite or malice. And he'd laughed! It was shocking to not only her but everyone else still remaining at the party. His laugh was an oddly delightful sound, and it was brought about by the most unlikely of people, a tall, green stranger. 'That Piccolo must be some classy guy,' she surmised.  
  
How could he have accomplished what he did? What could he have said or done to the youngest demi-saiyajin to make him change? 'Maybe Goten really is in love with him,' Bulma supposed. 'Who would've ever thought that he'd be so susceptible to love? Gohan and Kakarrot certainly aren't. Not that anyone could ever love either of them. I wonder if Piccolo will love Goten back. Gods, I hope so. If he can be turned around and away from the evil of the rest of his family, that's more than anyone could possibly imagine.' She was suddenly very grateful for the arrival of the green man into their world.  
  
She tried to picture his face again, one she hadn't seen often enough to memorize, and once she had it focused clearly in her head, it slowly melted away into a different visage. The intense grass green faded into a soft aqua. The sharp angles shifted into smoother, more delicate plains. And his dark eyes alit into bright gold. Bulma sighed, realizing she was picturing her strong, quiet guard, Zarbon. Oh, how she wished he were lying in bed next to her instead of this royal lout!  
  
Zarbon had been there for her for so many years, even before Trunks was born, but not too long before that. He'd always been so quiet, never spoke more than a few words when she'd demanded something. Doing everything she asked, the green-haired guard never once complained about her mistreatment, only eagerly performed each task she requested of him. It took several years before she would admit to herself that he was a beautiful man. It took even longer for her to realize that he loved her, and longer still that she loved him in return. His strength and loyalty were something she'd come to depend on. He knew her.  
  
And loved her.  
  
But they never spoke of it, and it wasn't meant to be. Bulma was the chosen whore of the great Lord Kakarrot, ruler supreme of the Galactic Empire. And Zarbon was her personal guard, loyal to her, but loyal to the emperor first and foremost. Decades they'd spent together, and perhaps decades more, but their love would stay locked away, never seeing the light of day or the beauty of being expressed.  
  
Why did things have to be like that? She cursed Lord Kakarrot's existence. If it weren't for him, she could be with a man she loved. She could truly live. On the other side of that coin, however, if the emperor had never come to her world, she would never have known Zarbon. She would never have known his lovely face, his kindness, his love. But at least she wouldn't know a life that was devoid of it. That was the thing about missing an opportunity you never knew existed. Ignorance was, indeed, bliss.  
  
It was the ultimate contradiction for Bulma. Because of Lord Kakarrot, she was a whore. Because of that, she'd known Zarbon and his love. And because of Lord Kakarrot, she'd been forced to sleep with several other people. Because of that, she'd received the greatest gift she'd ever known, her son Trunks. And for him alone, she could not fully condemn her sorry lot in life. Trunks was a true bright spot in her dismal existence. Bulma loved her son with her entire soul. Gritting her teeth, she wondered if it was selfish of her to want to keep Trunks around. Kakarrot had allowed her to keep her lavender-haired son but also allowed anyone and everyone to do whatever they wished with the boy. The poor soul had been beaten, tortured, raped, and more, and there wasn't anything anyone could do about it. Tears warmed behind her eyes as she remembered the very last time he'd been attacked in such a manner.  
  
She'd heard about it long after it happened, of course. Such bizarre events surrounded it that Bulma could scarcely believe their occurrences. That Trunks had been brutalized and raped she could believe, regardless of how it pained her to hear of it. However, she was shocked to silence when her son had told her that Prince Goten, of all people, was the one to find him and had sent 17 to care for him while the prince himself stood at guard for Piccolo in the android's stead. For Trunks, the events of that night had been fuzzy, but he'd been able to fill in the pieces after talking with 17.  
  
Bulma thanked any deity that would listen for the android's existence. She knew he took care of Trunks as best as he could without coming under suspicion by Lord Kakarrot. Whereas she could not take care of Trunks as often as she liked nor protect him in any way, at least 17 was able to do so to some extent. And ever since the last Bulma had heard of 17 and his caring ways, she'd scarcely seen hide nor hair of her son. It was her greatest hope that he was spending all of that time with 17; she suspected and expected as much. 'I wonder if Trunks knows how much 17 loves him,' Bulma mused. It was glaringly obvious to her that the android cared very deeply for her son, but Trunks wasn't used to that sort of thing. Would he know?  
  
Strangely enough, didn't that apply to all of them? Love was such an obscure concept to them all. It seemed 17 knew, deep down, how to love. That clearly came out towards Trunks. And Zarbon knew. She felt that every day. Lord Kakarrot's only brush with the emotion was towards Bulma, but it didn't affect him, really. And as for Gohan, Bulma didn't see any chance for him to ever become familiar with the concept. Yet, there was a chance for Goten, who appeared receptive to love. It was odd that he, the seemingly most cold-hearted of that family, would be the one to open his heart. Again, she wondered if Piccolo would be able to return that love. It was a true gift, if ever there was one, to be granted the love of someone who'd known nothing of it beforehand.  
  
Bulma thought back to the night of Lord Kakarrot's homecoming once more, where she'd finally been able to put faces to names and witness things for herself about which she'd only heard. Goten's changing, the Demon Lord Piccolo, his companions... A frown crossed her face again as she recalled the two humans accompanying Piccolo. The short one was all smiles, a rarity on their planet. He seemed to be content just conversing with Yamcha.  
  
Yamcha... 'He was awfully handsome, wasn't he?' Bulma sighed. Trunks had said that he was very nice and understanding while the demi-saiyajin had been assisting him in seeing Vegeta. In one of his late night confessions, her son had said he thought Yamcha liked Vegeta too much to just be seeing a friend, and she had to concur. 'It was so cute how he blushed every time he looked at Vegeta. And the way they stood close together and all the little sneaked looks... It was like something straight out of a romance novel!" She realized that the short saiyajin must be very attached to Yamcha, for she'd never known him to stand so near anyone nor to act so protectively.  
  
The blue-haired woman had known, of course, and was not phased by the fact that the once prince of the saiyajin indeed had an affinity for other males. When they'd been forced to have sex, she recalled how difficult it was to keep him physically interested, having to do 90% of the work herself; neither of their hearts could have ever been in it anyway. But she'd also known that if they hadn't gone through with it, it would have been death or worse for both of them. The only good thing, and it was a completely wonderful thing, that came of that wretched act was Trunks. Sadly, the boy never was able to get to know the man who'd helped create him. Vegeta was as closed off to him as he was the rest of the world. And yet, somehow, this human male Yamcha had managed to break through a bit. 'What is it about these strangers? They've gotten to everyone!'  
  
Suddenly, her eyelids felt as if they weighed a ton and closed on her. Behind her closed eyes, she was at the party again, watching Vegeta and Yamcha be so close but so far. It was sad, but hopeful. And she was hopeful for them. 'I hope they can make it. Someone deserves happiness around here. May as well be them. Gods, I hope there's a chance for us all.'  
  
***  
  
18 stalked through the crowds of people in the main hall. Normally, she would've -loved- it, as she did every other tournament celebration. There were tons of males to take advantage of sexually, but she was only interested in finding one particular male. 'Where is that little bastard?!' she wondered. If the blonde android had known how it was going to affect her afterwards, she never would've jumped Krillin.  
  
He'd done things to her, made her feel things she'd never felt. Sex had always been a source of power for her. She had not ever really physically felt anything; she'd just gotten off on the control and dominance over her partner. But the short human had found places to touch her, had done things she didn't even know she liked. Gods, she wanted it again. It was almost like a drug. And with the first dose, she was hooked.  
  
But Krillin hadn't touched her since. In fact, if she didn't even think he remembered that night. He acted like it never happened! The memory fueled her forward. She was going to have someone that night, preferably anyone short and muscular, species unimportant. She scanned the crowd, trying to find the perfect prey for the night. Someone who would meet her requirements. Finally, glacial eyes found someone who would do. "You," she said to the orange-skinned Jeice. "Are you up for me?"  
  
Jeice raised both of his eyebrows and backed slightly into Burter. "Um, you know I don't sleep with anyone else, don't you, 18?" he pointed out, jerking his head towards the amphibian-like male behind him. He could feel Burter taking on a rather defensive stance behind him, could almost feel his lover's jealousy. It was rather nice to know that he was worth fighting over, but he knew for a fact that 18 could kick both their asses without so much as messing up her hair.  
  
"Oh, yeah," she answered, making a sour face before continuing through the crowd. "Freaks."  
  
"Bitch," Burter murmured, once the android was out of hearing distance. He placed a reassuring hand on his companion's shoulder. "Wonder what jumped up her ass and died. She upset you?"  
  
"Not really," Jeice replied, leaning back. "But that's a deadly lady, mate."  
  
"She's no lady," the tall blue male snorted. He watched her sashay into the overly large crowd, while wishing that he and Jeice were away from the noise and chaos that was the annual party. While he didn't mind a good party, this was a bit overly gaudy for his tastes. Much like some people he could name. "Women are overrated anyway."  
  
Jeice smirked up at Burter then immediately bowed, pulling the other man with him, as Prince Gohan made his way past them. The royal didn't even acknowledge them before he disappeared into the crowd, but Jeice's eyes stayed pointed in the direction he'd gone. He knew that Burter turned away, trying to grab another drink from a server, but Jeice was too busy wondering about the prince. They'd seen him pass by several times, always cursing under his breath and becoming increasingly agitated. It was as if he was chasing someone, someone who kept eluding him at every turn. But who could elude the Golden Prince? Who would want to tempt fate like that?  
  
Gohan was seething. He had been through most of the palace and the surrounding grounds, trying to find Lord Piccolo. He had never worked this hard at anything, and it wasn't a pleasant experience. What did that green god want to do? Make him beg? Out of turn? Gohan gritted his teeth in vexation. He was so not in the party mood. Marching up steps to a veranda that overlooked the gathered crowd, Gohan found Vegeta already there. Normally, the prince would love to torment the older man; pulling his tail, hassling him, harassing him, touching him, watching the other male squirm. But Gohan wasn't in the mood even for that bit of pleasant pastime. He wanted to find Piccolo. He wanted to demand his princely rights by the other male.  
  
It was probably all the wine he had been drinking talking, but Gohan was willing to go with the flow of the alcohol, rather than try to fight it. Besides, he rather thought Piccolo would be flattered at the idea of bedding him. That was what was going to happen, after all. Shaking his head, he approached Vegeta, almost giggling at the sight of Vegeta in rose, as seen through his scouter. He always did think the elder warrior looked good in pink. "Vegeta!"  
  
The short saiyajin spun around, his face immediately blanking at the sound of the heir's voice. He dropped to one knee, his head lowered in submission. "Yes, milord."  
  
"Have you seen Piccolo?"  
  
Vegeta blinked a few times, mindful to keep his gaze lowered. His dark brow furrowed in thought, though he was quick with his answer. "No, milord. Not since the preliminary rounds were completed."  
  
"Very well then," Gohan groused. He spun around, intent on leaving. His tail snapped through the air, signaling exactly how annoyed he was. It was odd that he wasn't getting immediate results. Very odd. And very annoying.  
  
Vegeta raised his eyes to watch the prince leave. When the whelp was out of sight, he returned to his vigil. He shook with sudden chills. That was the first time in a long time he had outright lied to the Golden Prince. He had seen Piccolo not two hours prior, walking away from the party, more towards the inner bowels of the palace, and to a garden of which he had heard talk. With Prince Goten. Vegeta knew he wasn't a genius by any stretch of the word, but he did have a keen sense of self-preservation at times. He knew that Prince Gohan would have killed him on the spot if he had admitted to seeing the green warrior with the Royal Inquisitor. Especially since he knew that they were dodging the royal heir. And it wasn't for anything treasonous. More like amorous. At least, he thought so. Granted, there was no proof, but he rather thought that the prince and strange green male were going off to 'celebrate' their admittance into the tournament in their own fashion. Prince Goten was probably more loyal than even Prince Gohan was, so he doubted the younger son would even attempt at traitorous activities.  
  
Out across the great sea of people and creatures, Vegeta spotted his own prey easily. Yamcha. Just looking at the human made things ache and break inside the tailed warrior. Questions rolled through his head, and he wasn't sure he wanted the answers to them. He had done everything in his limited power to show Yamcha how much he wanted. It didn't matter though. Whenever the human saw him, all he was really seeing was the other Vegeta, the Vegeta from his realm.  
  
But the once royal knew he could get revenge on the human, hurt him. It may not be an equal amount of pain, because physical pain was something that was usually easier to deal with than emotional pain, but Vegeta figured it was all that he was going to be able to do. He didn't have a way to hurt Yamcha's heart. Not like the human hurt his. He already had things in place. All he had to do was wait.  
  
Saiyajins were hunters. They knew the value of patience. Vegeta knew he could wait for his opportunity.  
  
That opportunity was not long in coming. From his vantage point, Vegeta could watch in almost secrecy as Yamcha's smile faded. It was obvious that his ex-charge was not enjoying himself. Vegeta grinned with an evil glint. Too bad for the human that the night was -not- going to improve. He watched with glittering eyes as Yamcha began to make his way to the exit. The tailed warrior moved quickly, not wanting to lose his prey to the vast crowd, knowing that if he did so, his chance for retribution that night was not going to occur.  
  
As a natural predator, Vegeta had a natural liquid grace. Added to his shorter stature and lithe form, he could move as easily as a shadow through the crowd. But he knew he had to stay some distance behind his object, not wanting to alert the human. The hallways and corridors held more creatures than usual, but that was not uncommon for this time of year. They were Vegeta's camouflage as he stalked forward.  
  
Yamcha glanced around the hallway as he stepped into his room, but it wasn't until the doors shut that he realized he had a follower. Turning around, he came face to face with Vegeta, who was locking the doors behind him. "Vegeta! What are you doing here?"  
  
"You'll see soon enough," the shorter male replied, his tail uncurling to snap at the air. With a harsh mental command, he forced it into what he hoped looked like a casual curl behind him. "I'm here to call in my marker."  
  
"Your. marker?" Yamcha said slowly, his expression showing his confusion.  
  
"The first day here, you told me of how you and yours are from an alternate dimension. I do believe that if I told Lord Kakarrot, he would be highly interested. Yet another place to conquer and rule. Or at least destroy," Vegeta said, stepping forward. He smirked as Yamcha took an involuntary step back. "I told you I would keep your secret. for a price."  
  
"You said you wanted my cooperation in whatever you requested. Reasonable requests," Yamcha replied, remembering. "You haven't made any requests."  
  
Vegeta grinned, and there was only menace there. "I'm making my requests now."  
  
Yamcha shivered in dread. Where was the man he had come to know? Where was the one who was good and kind and considerate? The one with whom he had fallen in love? "What do you want, Vegeta?"  
  
"Your silence," Vegeta said harshly, his tail dropping from its high curl to a lower one. "I want your silence for the rest of the night. And should you make any sounds or protests, then I'll have your silence for tomorrow night."  
  
Still not understanding the depth of danger he was in, Yamcha agreed even with the warning bells ringing in his head. His anxiety increased when Vegeta started to peel out of some of his clothes. He felt as if the entire desert was in his mouth as inch by intimidating inch of Vegeta's bare skin was revealed, which was odd considering he'd seen Vegeta in only a pair of shorts before. In fact, he had slept with the shorter male in a bare minimum of clothes. But this was something different.  
  
Yamcha was so engrossed by the frightening strip tease that he completely missed Vegeta's first real move. He felt it, though, as he crashed into the far wall, his jaw aching from the saiyajin's uppercut. He shook it off, and was about to regain his feet, but Vegeta's boot to his throat stopped him. He grabbed the sole of the shoe and pushed it only so far that he could breathe, keeping it pressed against him so that Vegeta might think he had the upper hand.  
  
"You do realize that I now know even more about you, correct?" Vegeta said, keeping his voice level. He kept control over his voice, knowing that if he lost control of that he'd lose control over everything.  
  
Yamcha held the boot off his throat, but did not defend himself. He didn't want to do anything that would throw Vegeta off. Instead, he waited for the aggressive male to continue.  
  
"I remember what you said about my alter. How he's vicious. And cruel. And arrogant," Vegeta hissed. He removed his boot from Yamcha's hands, from the human's throat. "I remember you saying how you thought things were different here."  
  
Yamcha simply looked at the other male from where he remained sprawled on the ground. He didn't understand! What had happened? Why was Vegeta acting this way? The object of his thoughts picked him up by the collar and threw him back against the wall. He hit his head hard, a sharp ache running throughout his skull. He hissed in pain, but did not cry out.  
  
"You said you wanted to be his friend. You keep comparing me to him. So, I'll be exactly like him. I'll be just like your 'Prince' Vegeta!" Vegeta rasped as he leered at the human, his eyes as cold as he could make them. He was beyond enraged. Beyond livid. He was so close to the edge that all he would have to do was lean, and he'd have fallen in. Spinning, he easily tossed the obedient human away, watching as he bounced from the bed and landed on the floor. 'I will make you hate me.' "And you can live out your fantasy just as I live out. Mine."  
  
'Oh, Kami,' Yamcha thought, seizing up suddenly. 'Oh, Kami, he knows. Vegeta -knows-.' Anxiety, fear, embarrassment, horror, shame. They all sped through Yamcha's veins more swiftly than the most dangerous narcotic. He thought he'd done so well to hide that little-known fact, that before he'd come here, he'd been madly crushing on the saiyajin prince from his world. 'Apparently not. Shit!' The human didn't know how Vegeta had figured it out, but he had. And he wasn't responding well to it. This Vegeta thought he was a replacement! A placeholder! Hadn't he figured out along the way that Yamcha was in love with -him- and -not- the Vegeta from his world?  
  
Yamcha picked himself up off the ground, finally becoming angry. But it was no use, as Vegeta approached him again in that stalking manner that scared him. The scarred human backed up a few steps, catching himself just before he ran into the wall. He tilted his head to the side, silently asking questions he knew he didn't have words for even if he had been permitted to speak.  
  
"Strip," Vegeta snarled, grinning demonically as he tested how far he could actually push the human. He knew Yamcha was strong, just by the way he reacted to the boot at his throat. The taller male had easily held his foot in place, as if he weren't concerned with Vegeta's threat of physical violence.  
  
Yamcha flushed dark red, partly in embarrassment, partly in anger. He looked at the ground as he gritted his teeth. Could he do this? Could he strip and then stand naked, not nude but naked, in front of Vegeta? Glancing up, he saw the determination, the outright ferocity in Vegeta's eyes, and knew that this was one battle he didn't want to fight.  
  
Vegeta's tail snapped through the air, still low behind him, as Yamcha slowly began to peel out of his layers of clothes. He grew dizzy from his inability to breathe properly. His body tightened with arousal, growing heavy and hard. He was going to do this. He was actually going to do this! Dark eyes never slowed down in their silent appraisal as Yamcha performed his agonizingly slow strip show. And then, finally, it was over, and Vegeta could only force himself to stand there and NOT go over to touch the scarred warrior.  
  
Yamcha had his gaze directed at Vegeta's feet. He could feel his cheeks heat with a dark blush, but he couldn't help it. He couldn't help his all- body shiver, either. It wasn't from fear or cold, or maybe it was. He was also partially aroused, which only added to his discomfiture. How could this be happening? And more importantly, -why-? It wasn't right. It was going way too wrong way too fast. Vegeta was supposed to be kind and loving. He wasn't supposed to be the other Vegeta. Yamcha felt the tears pricking behind his eyes, but he blinked them away before the saiyajin could even notice. Why didn't Vegeta realize that he wanted -him-? Shame crept under the human's blush.  
  
Vegeta concentrated on breathing. He was grateful that Yamcha wasn't looking at him. He doubted he'd be able to do as he intended if the other was actually looking at him. Licking his lips, he steeled his nerves for what he was about to demand. He wanted Yamcha. The ache in his body was evidence enough, but the fact that his heart was in his throat and breaking all over again was even more proof.  
  
"On your knees."  
  
Yamcha's eyes grew large at the command. He glanced up to look at Vegeta but was rewarded with his ears being cuffed.  
  
"Don't look at me!" Vegeta cried out. He waited until Yamcha nodded his head and as graceful as he could, knelt to his knees. The once prince kicked his boots away, letting them land where they would. Cautiously, fighting the trembling in his hands, the saiyajin undid his pants and let them fall to the floor. He used his tail to flick the offending garments to the side, as if they were trash. And then, he stood, fully erect, in front of the human. "And if you bite me, so help me, you'll learn an entirely NEW definition of the word 'pain'."  
  
Yamcha nodded his head, his eyes downcast. He began to breathe harder, his entire body shaking. He was scared. And worried. And anxious. He licked his lips out of nervousness. He had never done this before. Granted, he had received, but he had never given. 'It's not supposed to be like this. It's supposed to be good. It's not supposed to be... -this-.' Raising his hands, he delicately placed them on the saiyajin's hips. When he wasn't pushed away, he leaned forward and flicked his tongue across the tip of Vegeta's sex. He felt a furry tail caress his bare back before moving to encircle his head, pushing him forward.  
  
Vegeta had expected the other male to simply try to slake his lust as best he could. He expected Yamcha to simply take him into his hot mouth and suck him dry. That was what he expected. That was not what he got.  
  
Yamcha slid his tongue across Vegeta's shaft, letting it stretch as far under and around as it could go. He was conscious of Vegeta's startled gasps, and it fueled him on. He used his tongue as if he were licking a lollipop or candy, scraping his teeth along aggravated skin. His body demanded he look upward, wanting to see the look on Vegeta's face, but he didn't want the other to be angrier than he already was. Releasing one hand from where it rested on the saiyajin's side, he cupped the prince's heavy round spheres.  
  
Vegeta was suddenly regretting the fact that he wasn't standing up next to something, something like a wall or door or anything that would allow him to lean against it. He thought his knees were about to give out, and he couldn't have that. But he didn't want to stop what Yamcha was doing either. He refused to look down at the human, but it was taking more effort than he thought he had to keep that resolve. In a last ditch effort, he closed his eyes. It didn't work as well as he hoped because right at that moment, Yamcha took him into his mouth. All. The. Way.  
  
Yamcha could taste the fine trembling that coursed through the shorter male. Hands fisted into his dark hair and kept him right where he was, though he could easily break the hold. What kept him there was the soft feel of the tip of a brown tail that continuously rubbed against his back, as if offering some form of assuagement of its own. He had always thought that this sexual act was something that he'd never be able to perform, but as he sat there, his mouth full, he found that he didn't mind it so much. He was able to control his gag reflex better than he had originally thought. And he had also discovered that Vegeta's skin tasted rather good.  
  
When Vegeta actually got air into his lungs, his exhalation was a deep moan of pleasure. As if that sound was all the signal his body needed, he began to move, thrusting into the heat of Yamcha's mouth. He took an involuntary step forward, trying to get as close to the deliciousness of it as he could, but there wasn't room to take that final step forward. Yamcha caught his leg, throwing it over his shoulder even as he continued to accept Vegeta's thrusts. That pose lasted for too short a time, as the shorter male found himself too off balance to retain it. His tail fled behind him as he tried to keep standing, but he stumbled backwards anyway. He landed with a grunt, against the bed, Yamcha still enveloping him.  
  
Yamcha had never been very good at moving on his knees, so he was very thankful to whatever deity was out there that was getting their kicks from watching his plight that he at least didn't bite down as Vegeta dragged him across the floor. When his prince was still again, he began to move. His head bobbed up and down as he repeatedly deep throated the other male, taking some slight revenge in the fact that Vegeta wasn't remaining unaffected by his actions.  
  
Vegeta was about to climax. He knew it. He wanted it. But he also wanted more. With a cry of frustration, more at himself than meant for the other, he pushed Yamcha away. Yamcha fell backwards, landing on his hands, but Vegeta was already up and moving, going to where his cot still laid. Reaching under the pillow, the agitated and aroused man pulled forth a palm- sized vial. "You are not getting off that easy. Get on the bed. On your stomach."  
  
Vegeta's tail snaked through the air, dancing, as he turned around. Yamcha was already on the bed, on top of the covers. And that's when the prince hesitated. How was he going to go through with this? His body told him that he'd be able to do so quite easily, but he had his doubts. He shook his apprehension away and crept onto the bed. Sitting on the back of Yamcha's knees, he poured some of the contents of the vial into his palm. Muscle relaxing oil, something that was in abundant supply during the time of the tournament. When he thought he had enough, he put the recapped bottle on the edge of the bed and began to rub his hands together. He looked at the human's body, and began to think. How did he want to do this?  
  
"Raise up, on your knees. Keep your head lowered."  
  
Yamcha heard the order, and immediately obeyed. He knew what was about to occur, and he was simply relieved that there was going to be some kind of lubrication. He stilled when he felt the warm, slick hands massaging his rear. Then fingers entering him, first one and then two, stretching him while exploring and testing him. And then three fingers, making sure he was ready. He gritted his teeth against the discomfort, surprised that there wasn't more pain involved. Granted, he had had male lovers before, and had had sex with them, though he had never gone down on any of them, so he was expecting more pain. Especially since he was sure that Vegeta wanted him to suffer.  
  
Satisfied that Yamcha was adequately prepared, Vegeta removed his fingers. He positioned himself before he slowly began to slide forward. He gripped Yamcha's hips tightly, and was dimly aware that his tail was wrapping around the human's waist to curl around his sex. When he was fully encased in the heat of Yamcha's tight body, he allowed himself the chance to actually breathe. He felt so. -GOOD-! So right. So perfect. Vegeta choked a harsh sob. He had wanted this for such a long time, to be with Yamcha, like this, but. To actually be buried inside the human, to be able to touch him without reprimand. He knew he should have felt better. He should have felt powerful. But what he really felt was. dirty. And sick. And worthless. But before he could do anything about it, his body took over, and he found himself thrusting rapidly into the hot body under him.  
  
Yamcha bit down on the pillow he rested on. Vegeta's soft tail was wrapped so tightly around his shaft as to be almost painful. Almost. It was touching him, stroking him, in time with Vegeta's quick movements. It felt... amazing! Yamcha couldn't stop his shattered cry as he was brought to climax. "Vegeta!"  
  
Vegeta's own hoarse cry spilled forth along with his seed, robbing him of more than just breath. It robbed him of will. He crashed to the bed, bringing the human with him. Panting, he clutched at Yamcha, burying his head in the scarred warrior's back. "You lost, you know."  
  
"Huh?" Yamcha asked dazedly. If he had already lost, why bother to remain silent any longer?  
  
"You lost. You cried out. You didn't give me your silence." Even as he said it, he knew that he would have no real desire to carry out his threat. He wanted Yamcha willingly. He wanted Yamcha to want -him- and not the other Vegeta. But, he also knew that this night would ruin that chance forever.  
  
"So, I didn't," Yamcha panted. He tried to shift his position, but strong arms around him tightened to stop him. He remained where he was, though a soft brown tail wrapped around him and curled up around his waist. "I guess. you get me again tomorrow night. After the tournament."  
  
"Yes. I do," Vegeta nodded, nuzzling the other's back. Sleep was tugging him under, ever so inviting. "Tomorrow night. You will not speak of this arrangement to anyone else. Understand?"  
  
"Yes," Yamcha replied, exhaustion evident in his voice. He listened as Vegeta's breathing slowly leveled out. He felt the arms around him slowly relax, and the tip of the tail began to flick across his bare stomach. The saiyajin fell to sleep on his side and pulled the human with him, curling behind him, holding him securely in his grasp, as in Vegeta's bed. Though Yamcha was worn out, he stared straight ahead at the wall.  
  
His thoughts whirled in a chaotic tumult. What had happened? Why? He felt violated in a way, but he was ashamed that he didn't feel worse. By all rights, he should hate Vegeta, hate what he'd done, made him do. But in reality, Yamcha couldn't hate him. He understood. He loved him. And he was going to continue loving him. No matter what happened.  
  
It was crazy, wasn't it? They were all in such a ridiculous predicament. Krillin, Piccolo, himself. Of the three of them, Krillin was actually the worst-off. At least Yamcha had a potential something with the man he loved, and Piccolo had... something, but whatever it was, it wasn't unpleasant. Putting his own dire situation out of his mind, Yamcha considered the short human for a moment. Poor Krillin. Stuck with a woman he hated. The sad thing? His 18 was exactly the same way when he'd first met her. Krillin just had gotten used to his -changed- 18. But he couldn't see that now. 'We really need to get him back home.'  
  
Suddenly, Yamcha's brown eyes widened greatly. Krillin was sleeping a mere couple of feet from where Yamcha and Vegeta were lying at that very moment! The paralyzing fear went as quickly as it came. If there was one thing everyone knew, it was that the short, bald human slept like the dead any time he slept. Yamcha breathed easy, knowing Krillin didn't hear any of that.  
  
But what about Piccolo? Sure, these walls were thick, but the namek had supernatural hearing. 'He probably heard every word!' Yamcha thought. 'That is, if he's even in his room. Hmm. Maybe he's not there. He has been spending a lot of time with Goten.' That was something he'd been wondering about a little. Just what were they doing spending so much time together? 'If I didn't know better, I'd think Piccolo was kinda sweet on Goten. Ha! As if Piccolo would ever be 'sweet' on anyone. Not in a million years.'  
  
His mind eventually turned back to his own problematic ordeal. What was he going to do now? Be this Vegeta's whore for the rest of the time he was here? He didn't want that. Despite what had occurred in his room this night, Yamcha still wanted Vegeta. His desire for the smaller male was still incredibly strong. How perverted did that make him? Wanting the person who'd just forced him to have sex with him. If only he could make the saiyajin see that this wasn't necessary. It could be mutual... If only Vegeta could see that.  
  
Sleep finally claimed him, and his last thought mirrored one he'd had long ago when they'd first arrived. 'This place is so fucked up.' 


	11. Quickening

Disclaimer: Neither I, Summer Starr, nor my compatriot, Deani Bean, own DBZ. More's the pity, because if we did, this show would banned in more places than I had ever heard of for its sexual content and appeal to the yaoi community. Mustn't promote things that run against the norm, right.  
  
Warning: Yaoi. Hott guys doing hott things with other hott guys. If the Piccolo/Goten pairing squicks you, you might want to skip this chapter after the initial scene.  
  
Kingdom Come  
  
~ Chapter 11  
  
He sat amongst the sea of spectators, carefully examining each competitor. Having felt the disturbance months before, he'd searched the world over for the source, hoping he was right, praying that it was time. Eventually, he knew that they would be there at the tournament, and there was a chance they'd participate in it. Though, he wasn't really sure for whom he was looking, but he rather thought he'd be able to figure it out once he spotted them.  
  
He had deliberately missed the opening ceremonies, and the day of preliminary rounds, though only the first was open to the public. For the most part, he hated it here. Hated life in general, but this mockery of entertainment the most. Around him sat a sea of people from all over the galaxy, but all sharing the same bloodlust, the warmongering trait that their leader did. The sunlight glimmered off of a multitude of rose-colored scouters, a link to each other though many hated their brethren guests. From where he sat, he could easily see Lord Kakarrot in the royal booth, Mistress Bulma at his side. She looked so sad. He watched as Prince Goten excused himself from the royal box and Prince Gohan enter, somewhat sleep tousled. He knew that life could have been different, had they only had the chance.  
  
The fourth match of the first round was about to begin as the two contenders stepped onto the platform. His breath held fast in his throat as his eyes landed on the taller of the two, a man the announcer had called the Demon Lord Piccolo.  
  
He knew that name. He knew that face. And as the green warrior defeated the other, he knew with certainty that they were here.  
  
The time had come.  
  
***  
  
Android 17 stood in a back room of the competitors' waiting area for the tournament. Hands clasped lightly behind his back, he stared at the chart on the wall. It was a smaller version of the main board in the arena listing the fights and outcomes, and one of the little men who were employed to make the tournament move more smoothly had recently come in to update it.  
  
Piccolo had just dispatched some nobody from the neighboring galaxy. In less than five minutes.  
  
The dark-haired male smirked at that. He'd seen the bout, of course, and he knew that Piccolo could've taken out his opponent with one punch but had humored the other man for a couple of minutes. It was amusing to say the least. Checking the clock just to the right of the chart, 17 saw that he still had a few more minutes to waste before his noon exhibition match with 18. Each fight was scheduled to start on the hour of the next hour.  
  
Prince Goten had fought his opponent first at 8 that morning, as he did every tournament. The match only lasted a mere ten minutes, leaving the crowd restless until 9 when the next bout started. Luckily for the masses, Jeice and his opponent were fairly evenly matched, and the contest lasted nearly the full hour before the orange-skinned warrior tossed the other competitor out of the ring. At 10, Burter fought his challenger and gave the crowd another pleasing round of fighting for close to half an hour until he blew away the other fighter according to Lord Kakarrot's wishes, as the emperor held the lives of all defeated individuals in his hands, deciding whether or not they could be killed in the ring. Unfortunately, Piccolo's extremely brief match only brought shock and bewilderment to the crowd. No one ever defeated an opponent -that- quickly. Not even Prince Gohan!  
  
17 let out a small sigh and stepped away from the chart. 'Just a few more minutes,' he thought. A small scraping sound above him suddenly caught his attention, and he peered up at the air duct near the ceiling. Two curious blue eyes peeked out at him. Smiling, 17 met the blue orbs calmly.  
  
"Is it safe to come out?" Trunks whispered.  
  
"It's safe. There's nobody around," the android answered.  
  
The lavender-haired youth stretched a slim finger through the slits of the air duct covering and unhooked the latch, pushing the cover open on silent hinges. Losing his grip on the side of the duct opening, Trunks slipped, tumbling back first out of the duct. Had 17 not been standing directly beneath him, the demi-saiyajin might've damaged himself a bit. Fortunately, the raven-headed guard was there to catch him.  
  
"Whoops," blushed Trunks, taking advantage of the situation by immediately snuggling into the warm embrace of the android. 17 nuzzled his lavender temple then set him onto his feet. He remained pressed against the android, even though the royal guard was wearing more armor than was his usual attire. He didn't want to let go, in fact. He knew he could, and that he probably should, as he was in a very dangerous area, and didn't want to be caught, but if 17 said he was safe then he would remain as long as he could. "I wanted to see you before your fight with 18."  
  
"Did you, now?" 17 smirked. He was more than content to simply hold Trunks close, though he cursed the uniform he had to wear. Showing off for the large crowd outside meant that he was forced to wear the royal house's symbols and colors as if he were an advertisement. He was only marginally surprised there wasn't some sort of graffiti on the abomination, such as 'Eat at Joe's' or 'Killroy was here!'. If it weren't for the heavy apparel, he'd be able to actually feel the press of Trunks' body against his.  
  
"Uh-huh," he nodded. A lavender tail curled around the android's leg, and remained there, calm and still. Even in the empty room, they remained pressed almost indecently close together. "And to wish you luck. I hope you win."  
  
"Really." The android licked his lips and tilted his head to one side. He gazed longingly at the other male's features, and but his eyes eventually concentrated on the demi-saiyajin's partially open lips. "And what will you give me if I win?"  
  
Trunks gazed into 17's icy blue eyes. His brow furrowed in confusion. Give? He had nothing to his name! What 17 or Bulma had not directly given him, he had directly stolen. He kept his possessions down to a bare minimum due to his uncertain livelihood. In all reality, he wore the only thing that he could claim as his. "G-give you?"  
  
"Yes. If I win, what do I get in return? What's my award?" 17 dragged his fingertips up the side of Trunks' arm, bringing them up to skim lightly across the sensitive flesh of his collarbone. A tiny smile graced his lips when he felt Trunks quiver and the curious lavender tail tighten its hold. It amazed him, how responsive the other male was to his touch. In the past, he felt power and strength course through his veins with overwhelming speed, but neither compared to the simple pleasure of Trunks reacting to a mere brush of his fingertips.  
  
"What, um, what would you want?" the lavender-haired male queried. He was suddenly warm. Very warm. And nervous, which was rather ridiculous when he thought about how much he wanted to do or get whatever it was that 17 desired. He wanted the crown? Fine. Trunks knew he'd find a way to get it for him. All he had to do was ask for it.  
  
"Let's start... with a simple kiss for good luck," 17 suggested as he leaned slightly back for a better look at Trunks' features. He could feel Trunks relaxing against him, as if he had been somewhat afraid before. He had to remind himself, again, that he had to move cautiously with the younger male. A fact that was as annoying as it was needed. He didn't dare lose control of himself, otherwise he doubted he'd ever recover. If he lost Trunks, he didn't think he'd be able to control himself ever again. He wrapped his arms around the lithe figure, and whispered softly, "We can work out the details later."  
  
Trunks eagerly moved into the android's arms and pressed his lips against the other's. The kiss was intense but brief. In that passionate kiss, Trunks tried to relay his eagerness for what was to come and his concern for 17's safety. He could taste 17's own eagerness, and his concern. Trunks pulled back, his cheeks tinged pink. Idly, he wondered why he was always dizzy from 17's kisses, but it was one of those things that he wouldn't want to change even if he could. "Good luck," he breathed.  
  
17 was leaning in for another quick kiss just before he and Trunks heard a familiar though slightly muffled voice say, "They shouldn't bother you in here."  
  
Of course, the door had also been opened at that point as well.  
  
The black-haired android whirled around to face the intruder, or rather, intruders: Prince Goten, followed by Piccolo, Yamcha, Krillin, and finally, 18. "Safety in numbers?" he asked, one corner of his lips quirking upward.  
  
"They've been chasing Piccolo ever since the end of his fight," Yamcha grinned. He noticed that Trunks was standing behind yet to the side of 17, blushing furiously. He took a closer look at their stance and noticed that they seemed to have just fallen out of a tight embrace, and by the look in Trunks' blue eyes, he wanted to return to it. But not with an audience. "Prince Goten finally brought us back here to get away from them."  
  
"If only it would work well enough to get rid of -all- the pests," Krillin added with a split-second glance towards the blonde android. Even though he knew she had hated being his guard, ever since Lord Crappalot came back from his 'vacation', she hadn't left his side unless he somehow managed to lose her, though it was becoming more and more difficult to do so. For the first time in his life, he understood what some of the women felt like. It was more than simply annoying to have someone who constantly wanted to get into your pants and nothing else. If it had been when he was younger, and unmarried, he wouldn't have minded so much. But things had changed, and he missed his wife.  
  
The blonde android eyed the two males at the opposite end of the room. Their stance, proximity. Quickly putting things together, she blurted out, "Were you just kissing?"  
  
"Ah, geez..." Krillin looked at 18, then at 17 and Trunks. "Not you, too! What -is- it with this place?!"  
  
"Was it for good luck before our exhibition?" 18 continued, ignoring the shorter male's rambling. He occasionally did that. But her brother never did anything unintentionally. So, why was he kissing Trunks? Why was he bothering to waste his time with a palace nobody, someone who had nothing to offer? When she received no answer, she turned to the short human. "I want a good luck kiss. Kiss me. Right now."  
  
The small, bald man stared at her in abject horror. "Are you nuts?!"  
  
She bent down, stealing a kiss, until Krillin abruptly pushed her away. She wore armor similar to her brother's, only hers was cut in a different manner to allow her figure a better, more aesthetically pleasing display. She was supposed to be attractive, yet the small man was still turning her down! How odd!  
  
"Leave me alone!" he shouted, running from the room.  
  
18 was quick to follow. "You're supposed to kiss me for good luck!" she responded from down the hall.  
  
Yamcha chuckled nervously once they'd left the room. "Uh, you know, maybe I'd better, uh... make sure they don't hurt each before the match. I'll, uh, I'll catch up with you later, Piccolo."  
  
The four remaining males watched the human race from the room speedily.  
  
Trunks quickly gave 17 another kiss, and then proceeded to slink out of the room, managing to disappear while still being in the room. A trick of light and shadows he had learned at a young age allowed him to trick most people into thinking he wasn't really there. It was one of the reasons he had been dubbed 'The Palace Ghost'. Piccolo and 17 knew he was still present, but they allowed him his retreat.  
  
The raven-haired android cleared his throat softly. "If you will excuse me, Lord Piccolo, Prince Goten, I have an exhibition match with 18 in which to participate."  
  
He bowed slightly then quickly made his exit, pressing a button on the outside of the room to shut the door behind him.  
  
As usual, a light pink tinged Goten's cheeks when he was alone in a secluded place with the tall, green male. "So, um, I think if you stay back here for a while, I may be able to clear out all the sycophants enough for you to get back into a safer part of the palace."  
  
Piccolo nodded his head, acknowledging the statement, but he also noticed that Goten made no move to follow out his thought. He smirked a bit as he also noticed a far away look in Goten's eyes, as if he were thinking about something very deeply, something that troubled him. He stepped closer to the younger male, seeing how aware the tailed prince was of his surroundings. Goten looked at the ground as Piccolo stepped next to him, which only made the green warrior all the more curious. "Goten?"  
  
Goten looked up, but Piccolo doubted he was actually seeing anything. And then, as if by some strange magic, Goten's eyes lit up. That was about all the larger warrior really got in the way of warnings as Goten jumped up, wrapped his arms around Piccolo's neck, and pressed their closed lips together. Piccolo, taken off guard, naturally brought his hands up and held Goten's waist, while taking a defensive step back.  
  
Just as quickly as it had begun, the act ended, and Goten was on his feet again, blushing so brightly he fairly glowed in the dim illumination. His tail had come loose from where it had wrapped around his waist, and curled up behind him before it dropped down to a low curl. He took a few minced steps back, breaking out of Piccolo's very loose embrace, while trying to stutter an apology that did not want to come forth. Finally, after emitting a strange squeaking sound, Goten collected his frazzled wits and straightened up. "I apologize for that. I don't know what came over me. I. I think I should go. Now. I think. I think I hear someone calling for me. You should wait here for a few more moments so that no one will try to harass you. G'day, Lord Piccolo."  
  
And with that, he fled the room. Piccolo was left standing in the middle of the empty room, in total shock. He wasn't shocked easily, or that often, but it occasionally happened. He raised one hand to his lips, touching where the prince's lips had been pressed. Piccolo looked at the direction in which the younger male had escaped, and began to chuckle to himself. He had been thinking that he was going to be the one leading them down this path. What a shock to discover it was Goten who made the first move.  
  
"The kid did good, surprising me like that," Piccolo commented to himself. 'But turnabout is fair play, and I wouldn't want to be the only one left with a cliffhanger like that. Cute that he ran away. Not so cute as I'll not chase him, but cute. So, how to surprise him?'  
  
The tall warrior turned around, donning his cape and turban effortlessly. As he left the room, his smirk turned into a full-fledged smile. Strategy was his favorite game.  
  
***  
  
Vegeta stared at the murky liquid in the small glass in front of him, completely oblivious to the smoky atmosphere of the bar and the already late hour. The contents held his unwavering gaze, though he couldn't tell what color it was nor what it was supposed to be. Grabbing the glass with both hands, as he wasn't quite capable of holding it steady with just one, he drank the sickly sweet contents all at once. He tossed a few pieces of money onto the table, not really caring if it was enough to cover the tab or not. He only knew it was time to go. He assumed he wasn't drunk enough since he was still able to remember why he was drinking. Vegeta murmured aloud, though he was unaware of his vocalization, "Yamcha."  
  
He became blind to his surroundings as he thought of the scarred human, though he stumbled forward anyway. He had no real idea where he was, or where he was going. He only knew he had to keep moving as he tried to figure things out. What was he going to do? He couldn't hurt the other male; he already felt sick from what he had done just the previous night! "I'll just go to my room. I won't even bother going to see him."  
  
Dimly, he realized he was already in the palace. He noticed Piccolo waiting in a small area, alone. Though unusual, the sight was not enough to stop Vegeta's meandering course. He lost awareness of his surroundings as he walked, trusting instinct to take him to his room. Blinking his eyes, he came to the realization that there was a set of doors in front of him, very familiar doors. Before his muddled mind could comprehend fully that they weren't -his- doors, they slid open to reveal Yamcha.  
  
Yamcha was waiting for him. In the nude.  
  
Vegeta had just enough time to register the human's lack of clothing before he fell into the room, his knees giving completely out. Catching him effortlessly, Yamcha dragged him into the room as silently as a nightmare. Or a fantasy. The short gladiator clung to the scarred human, burying his head against the other's shoulder. A brown tail wrapped tightly around Yamcha's waist. The human embraced the saiyajin, as they both sunk to the floor.  
  
Legs and knees landed where they would as Vegeta gave up. Hot tears began to trace down his face as he tried to bury himself in Yamcha's arms, succumbing to the urges inside of him. He wanted to purge his system of everything that he was, and transform into the person he thought that Yamcha wanted. But he knew he couldn't do that. He didn't know how. And just the thought of failing at it disgusted him, because he knew he would fail. And because he was already disgusted with himself. At the same time, he wanted to ask for forgiveness, to make amends so that he could be Yamcha's friend again, even if that was all he'd ever have the chance to be after what he did.  
  
Silence enveloped the room. Even as Vegeta cried, he made no noise. Only the violent shaking of his small frame gave any indication of the intense emotions pouring out through the saiyajin's body. Yamcha could do nothing but hold him, giving him reassurance and security in his actions. He didn't know what had brought this on. Vegeta was so different from the coldness of the night before. What should he do?  
  
Yamcha, for his part, was at a complete loss. After Gohan had defeated his opponent, and the tournament was ended for the day, he had thought that he would have to go to his room and submit to whatever Vegeta had planned. He had waited for hours before he thought to give up on the erstwhile prince. And then, when the alarm chimed, he had thought that it was finally time to deal with whatever was intended. He had not expected Vegeta would just... cry on him! Especially while in full battle armor! Thinking as quickly as he could, he began to slowly strip the saiyajin out of his armor, but left his under clothes on. Through it all, Vegeta continued to cry against him, silent sobs that racked his small frame, and his tail wound tight enough to hurt.  
  
Vegeta tried to apologize, but every time he thought he had enough air, he would discover the lie behind it and simply break into another round of sobs. So he gave up, allowing his tears to tell the other all that he couldn't voice.  
  
Hot tears continued to scald Yamcha's bare chest. Judging by the soreness in his knees, he knew they'd been there for a while and knew they'd have to move soon. But he didn't want to rouse the saiyajin. He was so... vulnerable. Instead he held Vegeta close, caressing his back, willing his knees to become numb.  
  
Unfortunately, that wasn't working out too well for the human.  
  
"Vegeta?" Yamcha softly called out. His only response was Vegeta's tightened hold on him. The taller male shifted his grip on the former prince a bit and scooped him up into his arms, carrying him to the bed. He laid him down gently but did not release him, climbing in close next to him. Vegeta huddled into him, keeping his face buried, his arms and tail still wrapped tightly about the human's torso, his legs pulled in close, putting him in a near fetal position. "Vegeta?" he asked again.  
  
The small saiyajin shook his head, rubbing his face against Yamcha's scarred chest, and let out a ragged sigh. The all too familiar stench of alcohol permeated the human's senses. 'Drunk?' he thought. 'Is that what brought this on? Why would he want to get so smashed?'  
  
Minutes stretched into an hour, and it seemed as if Vegeta had run out of tears, but his body still racked with unreleased sobs. Yamcha's heart went out to the shorter man. Vegeta's demeanor was just so pathetic and heart wrenching. The way he cried without a sound, the defensive position into which his body had moved as though it knew how exposed he was, how he clung to Yamcha like the human was his only salvation. Yamcha didn't know the reasons, didn't know how to help the other man. What could he do? His own tears clouded his eyesight. He was helpless in a situation like this. "Vegeta," he choked out. "Tell me how to help you. I don't know what to do. Tell me what to do."  
  
Vegeta clenched his body against Yamcha's, as if willing the taller male to absorb him. Fresh tears mixed with the stains the previous tears had left behind, causing a painful straining to intensify inside Yamcha. "Please," Vegeta finally whispered, his breath hot and uneven on the scarred chest. "Please love me. Please, please, please..."  
  
Liquid despair spilled from Yamcha's eyes. Didn't Vegeta understand that's all he ever wanted to do? To love him? He submerged his face in the saiyajin's ebony spikes, keeping him close in his tight embrace. How could he make Vegeta comprehend that he already loved him? Sighing in helpless frustration, he tightened his arms around Vegeta, beginning to rock back and forth. Turning his head to the side, he began to croon the one lullaby that Vegeta had taught him.  
  
Listening to the soft sound of Yamcha's crooning of the love song, Vegeta quieted. He closed his eyes, relaxing against the hand that stroked his back, even though it was through his clothes. He let Yamcha rock him, as if he were some pathetic child, accepting the affection. Basking in it, though it was such a strange feeling. Such a strange gift. He still remained tucked against the other male, his tail wrapped tightly, as if he was afraid of letting go, afraid that if he did so Yamcha would disappear, and it would -all- be some horrible nightmare trick against him.  
  
With Vegeta quieted, Yamcha laid down, keeping Vegeta against him. Automatically, the shorter male resituated himself, still somehow seeming to curl around the human. The ex-bandit continued to rub his hand down the ex-prince's spine, allowing his hand to pet a small length of brown fur as well before moving back up to repeat the caress.  
  
"Yamcha?" Vegeta asked, his tail relaxing enough for the human to pet more of it until it finally uncurled from its death grip. He sighed as the taller male's hand traveled from between his shoulder blades, down his back, and then stroked his tail delicately. It was such a... delicious caress; Vegeta was helpless but to relax into it.  
  
"Yes?" Yamcha asked softly, his entire world consisting of Vegeta and the warmth of his body pressing against him.  
  
"Sing it again, please. Sing it again," Vegeta sighed.  
  
Yamcha smiled as he continued to stroke Vegeta's back. Lights were turned off and into the darkness, only Vegeta's love song sung by Yamcha rang out. It was more light than Vegeta had ever thought to have. It stayed with him even as he fell asleep, making sure than no nightmares would haunt him. No broken dreams for at least one night.  
  
***  
  
Goten walked towards his room, the events of the day replaying in his mind. It seemed that tournament time was the perfect time for distractions. Such as the minor offenses a few of the visiting nobles' sons performed today. Nothing really worth his time, but it had been in the latter half of the day so he had to take care of it due to his brother getting ready for his match. Of course, the minor offenses of the young visitors were not what troubled the Royal Inquisitor. No, what puzzled him was his earlier lack of control.  
  
When he simply jumped up and KISSED Piccolo.  
  
That had his mind whirling. How could he have done that? How could he, HE, have simply abandoned his sanity to do such a thing? He huffed softly to himself. Not only was he -throwing- himself at the larger man, but he had also come into the habit of catching himself daydreaming about him too. These things had to stop! He had already made a fool of himself once, and he was determined not to do so again. With that resolution in mind, he turned the corner to start walking towards his room...  
  
... and found Piccolo waiting for him outside his door.  
  
The hallway was dark, testament to the late hour. Deserted because it was mainly -his- hall. And yet, Piccolo's mere presence seemed to fill the area. He had on his customary cape and turban, with his arms crossed over his chest. Piccolo had one leg up, his foot propped against the wall, as he leaned back. Goten stared at the image before him, his mouth suddenly and completely dry.  
  
"I was wondering when you were going to show up," Piccolo said, his voice carrying no further then to Goten's ears. Even though they were the only ones in the hall, or maybe because of it, the Demon Lord had decided to keep his voice down.  
  
"Uhhh..." Goten started, but rather trailed off as Piccolo pushed off from where he had been standing. The large man didn't make any other kind of move, but Goten suddenly had the feeling that he was prey. And as confusing as -that- was, he found he didn't mind the idea as long as it was Piccolo who was hunting him. His mind focused on the fact that Piccolo was standing out in the hall waiting for him, and didn't seem to be in a hurry to do anything else. Yet. Which was unsettling, especially in light of earlier events. "I was. dealing with tournament details. Ah. You realize, um, you do realize that the day after tomorrow we're going to be fighting one another, don't you?"  
  
"I know," Piccolo said as he tilted his head to the side. He shifted his position, turning slightly to the side, though not falling into a complete fighting stance, as his arms were still crossed. "I realized that earlier, when I saw how one-sided most of the fights were."  
  
"Yes. Father is easily amused by them, but he was shocked at how easily you dispatched your opponent. My brother was as well," Goten said, his voice becoming steady as he concentrated on the facts of the day, rather than the peculiar fluttering in his chest and abdomen.  
  
Piccolo raised an eyebrow ridge at that. Smirking, he asked, "And what of you?"  
  
"Me?" Goten asked, all instincts telling him to be cautious. He knew enough to go with those feelings. Tilting his head to the side, he appraised Piccolo, trying to understand what the other man meant. "I... I knew you'd defeat your opponent. Easily. You've beaten me, which is not something I'm likely to forget."  
  
"That's not what I meant," Piccolo said, finally taking that first real step forward. His smirk intensified as he noticed Goten stop himself from taking a cautious step back.  
  
"Oh. It's not?" Goten asked, suddenly feeling how hot he was from remaining in his armor, which was odd since he had rarely felt hot before. His tail unfurled from where it was wrapped, curling high behind him. "Uh, what do you mean?"  
  
"Are -you- easily amused?" Piccolo asked, his voice intentionally inflected to send shivers coursing over the young royal.  
  
Goten opened his mouth to try and answer, but nothing emerged besides a small half sound that was unclassifiable. He looked down at the ground, wondering how he was supposed to answer that question. There was the obvious reply, but he wasn't sure if that was the correct one. Yanking at the increasingly uncomfortable armor, he confessed, "I'm not really sure how to answer that."  
  
The taller male eyed the fidgeting and tugging of armor, his own amusement glinting in his eyes. "Something wrong?"  
  
"I have -got- to take off these clothes," Goten grumbled.  
  
Piccolo smirked. He recognized the innocence behind the statement, but it certainly wasn't beneath him to bring out the double meaning underneath it. "So, are you going to strip for me now, too?"  
  
"What?!" The demi-saiyajin blushed furiously. "No! That's not what I meant."  
  
"I know." The green male took a couple of steps back to lean against the wall beside the door. "Why don't you change clothes, then?"  
  
"O-okay," nodded the prince. He pressed a few buttons next to his door, which slid open nearly soundlessly. Taking a few steps in, Goten turned around to see that Piccolo was standing outside the door, looking for all the world like a god pretending to be casual. "Um, you're welcome to come inside and wait... if you'd like."  
  
Goten turned his back to the door and heard the faintest of footfalls before the door whooshed shut. Making for the other side of his room, he paused at the doorway to his walk-in closet. "You can make yourself comfortable. There's plenty of places to sit. Chairs, or the couch, or..." He trailed off when he turned around. Piccolo had taken a seat already and had proceeded to make himself quite comfortable. "O-or my bed. Uh... yeah. I'll, uh, uh, I... I'll... b-be... right back."  
  
'Oh, gods! Piccolo's in my room! ON MY BED! Piccolo's on -my- bed! Oh, gods!' Goten was in a state of pure panic. What was he going to do? Should he just go back out there without any clothes? Maybe he should get really dressed up. Were they going to stay in his room, or were they going someplace else? Thinking that was a really important question, the prince opened the door again but did not step out of the room. Piccolo was still sitting on Goten's bed. Taking a deep breath, he slowly inquired, "Will we be going any place?"  
  
"I thought we might take a walk to our garden," suggested the reclining man.  
  
"Oh. Okay." Goten shut the door again, glad that he was able to grin and blush and gush in private. 'Our garden. He called it -our- garden! Oh, gods, -our- garden!' Practically ripping off his armor and constrictive clothing, he swiftly pulled on his normal, everyday black gi, almost falling over trying to put on his shoes. He took a deep breath to collect himself then walked out into his bedroom.  
  
"Your bed linens are interesting," Piccolo remarked upon Goten's re-entry. "The green's a little off, though."  
  
"I-I-I," stuttered Goten. He turned to look again at the image of Piccolo reclining on his bed, memorizing it even as the Demon Lord began to stand.  
  
"Are you ready now?" Piccolo asked, as he walked toward the door.  
  
"Uh... Yes," nodded the demi-saiyajin. He adjusted his scouter over his eye and forced his tail to wrap around his waist. As calmly as he could, he followed Piccolo out of the room. No one was out, or if they were, they were of such low power rating that they didn't even register. He slid his gaze to the large green man he walked beside as they began to walk. He was at a loss for what to talk about, so he grabbed onto the safest thing of which he could think. "So, tomorrow, I fight Jeice, and you fight Burter."  
  
"Yes," Piccolo said. He was watching the younger male out of the corner of his eyes as well, and knew when Goten looked away. The brown tail came undone from where it had been wrapped, curling high behind the prince.  
  
"Jeice isn't very strong," Goten stated as he concentrated on the topic, latching onto it with all his concentration, "but Burter can be quick, and he's pretty strong."  
  
"He won't be a problem," Piccolo responded. He turned his head, looking at the lithe figure beside him as he admitted, "I'm actually looking more forward to the following round."  
  
"When we may end up fighting?" Goten asked, his own gaze flying to Piccolo's before returning to the darkened corridor. They were keeping their voices low, but it wasn't as if anyone were around to hear them. It was only them, and the walls, unless Trunks was around somewhere, and Goten seriously doubted that. He didn't know why, but he rather thought that they were alone tonight. A fact that was as frightening as it was exciting.  
  
"No. Not 'when we may'. We will end up facing each other," Piccolo clarified. He knew for a fact that their matches weren't really worth their effort to fight; they were just too uneven.  
  
Goten only nodded, not sure what to say to that. The idea of having to fight against Piccolo in the tournament wasn't sitting well with him. He'd lose again; he knew that. He'd be so mortified! As much as, if not more than, when Piccolo had figured out his sheets were inspired by the man himself. How was he going to explain that? He fell into a hushed silence as he thought of nothing that would explain away the color combination. "I can get my sheets changed as soon as I get back to my room," Goten blurted out. Belatedly, he decided that an apology was all he would be able to offer.  
  
"Why?" Piccolo asked, toying with the other male. He knew, even as he said it, that he was already playing the game. Now, the question that had to be answered was, would he let Goten know it, or would he simply tease the youth a bit more? He rather doubted that many others teased the prince in such a light manner, more as a friend rather than a threat.  
  
"Well, I mean, you know, maybe they shouldn't be those colors," he answered. "I don't know. I think they gave you the wrong impression of me, and they're not what you think."  
  
"I think they're sheets. And a blanket," Piccolo replied with a grin. 'He's making this too easy...'  
  
"So maybe they -are- what you think," Goten said, relief obvious in his voice. His tail snapped through the air softly behind him, as if it were flicking something worrisome away.  
  
They fell into a prolonged silence as they walked down the abandoned corridors and hallways, each comfortable in the lack of talk. Goten shifted his path to one that traveled a bit closer to Piccolo's, though in all honesty he remained completely unaware of it until his tail began to brush against the outer hem of Piccolo's cape. He blushed lightly, trying to think of something, anything to say as he tried to subtly shift back to a safe distance. "So, did you watch any of the afternoon matches?"  
  
"I watched two of them," Piccolo acknowledged, deciding to let his arms swing at his sides so that he would be able to brush against Goten a bit more. He told himself that it was just to judge the youth's reaction, but a part of his mind that was beginning to speak out a bit more than he had ever heard it before was telling him that it was for his own pleasure.  
  
"Which ones?" Goten asked shakily, very much aware of the feel of Piccolo's arm brushing against his repeatedly. He knew he should move away, even if it was only slightly, but his feet didn't seem to want to obey his command. And, apparently, neither did his tail, as it was almost ready to curl around the larger man's hand, which was a very big no-no. That was something that was unheard of! To actually place oneself at someone else's mercy like that, something completely out of the question, though he rather thought it would be... well, the word 'fun' came to mind but that wasn't the right word.  
  
"Vegeta's match... and Prince Gohan's," Piccolo said, becoming mildly distracted by the tail that continuously brushed against his arm before sliding back away, teasingly flitting against him, begging to be touched, before coyly running away, demanding to be chased.  
  
"Oh. My brother's a very good fighter, isn't he..." Goten spoke softly, mentally comparing his brother to himself. He had been compared to the Golden Heir all his life, so the action came naturally to him. 'He's stronger, faster, better-looking, and more experienced. So why is Piccolo wanting my attention and not my brother's? Why is he wasting his time on me?'  
  
"I'm better," the green male stated without reservation. He rather thought he knew from where Goten's soft frown came, and he didn't want to cause the prince any more grief than with which he already dealt. "You could be a better fighter than him. You only need a proper instructor."  
  
"We don't have any instructors left. Gohan killed them all," Goten remarked. Even without the actual statement, he knew Piccolo was intelligent enough to understand that they had all died before they had ever had the opportunity to train him. Or at least, he hoped he was so that the events wouldn't have to be explained.  
  
"I've been told I teach well," Piccolo commented as he placed a hand on Goten's shoulder. To some, the gesture would have been meant as reassuring. And it was. But mostly, it was just an excuse to taunt that nagging voice in his head, as if to say, 'See, I can touch him without it being sexual.' Sadly, he didn't think the voice would take the hint.  
  
"You mean that? I know you said something before, but I thought you were kidding," Goten admitted as he leaned against Piccolo and allowing for the touch, his mind flooding with nothing.  
  
"I meant it," Piccolo said, but remained silent on all that he had meant that night.  
  
"Oh."  
  
Their pace had slowed as they walked together, until they were barely walking. Goten, thinking it was his fault for slowing Piccolo down, pushed off of the other male and tugged at his shirt to straighten it. However, as he began to walk forward again, he nearly crumpled to the floor. His tail was wrapped around Piccolo's hand and was suffering through the intense pleasure of a strong green thumb rubbing against its furred tip. Gathering as much of his senses as he could, he first tried to swallow. Then, he realized how. sexual the situation was, which led him to think of earlier in the day, when he had practically thrown himself at the larger male.  
  
Which, if he thought about it, was rather like what his tail was doing to him too. Glaring at his own furred appendage, he knew he had to get past his own embarrassment and deal with what had been troubling him all day. "Okay, I still want to apologize for what I did earlier today. That was completely out of line, and I really wish I hadn't done it."  
  
"I have no idea what you're talking about."  
  
"This morning? In the waiting room. You don't remember?" Goten asked, though it was rather difficult to think and be petted at the same time.  
  
"Why? Did something happen?"  
  
"You're infuriating," Goten said helplessly as he turned his gaze to Piccolo's half smile.  
  
"I know." Piccolo chuckled as he released the furred tail. Only, the appendage didn't want to release him as easily. So, in the end, they walked down the hallway, tail wrapped securely around wrist, and fist securely holding onto brown-furred tail.  
  
They reached the garden, though they weren't too aware of the passage of time since they left Prince Goten's room. Goten's tail unwound from its hold, much to the prince's relief, though not to his delight. He walked in to be amongst the plants, trying to find something to occupy his attention, though he could easily feel Piccolo's eyes on him. The prince was pulled up short by Piccolo's words, "Goten, do you remember the first time we were in here?"  
  
"Yes. You kicked my ass," Goten replied lightly as he turned to look over his shoulder. Even as he did so, he found Piccolo walking towards him, past him, and then around him, circling him. The tension from earlier came back, tightening muscles all over his body. He only moved his eyes and head as Piccolo paced around him slowly.  
  
"I think I was just trying to scare you," Piccolo said, his already soft voice turning to a darker, almost sinister octave. His tactics told of the fact that he was still trying to intimidate the younger male, or at least trying to gauge the reaction that admission was to receive.  
  
Goten swallowed and nodded his head. He realized that his knees were trembling slightly, and his tail was ever so softly puffed as it curled low behind him. Piccolo was by far better at intimidating him than anyone else, other than perhaps his father and his older brother. Yet, with Piccolo, there was an added respect and desire to please that his family lacked. Granted, he wanted to please his family, wanted to belong, but he knew that Piccolo wanted something else out of him, and whatever that something else was, he was terrified of not being able to give. "Worked."  
  
"It didn't really scare you, though, did it?" Piccolo said, dropping his voice so low it was more of a rumbling vibration than actual sound. He stopped his circular movements right behind the prince, and leaned down to breathe, "I think you liked it."  
  
Goten stiffened before he turned around. He was going to try and argue the statement, try to defend himself even though he was guilty. His tail moved to wrap around his waist defensively. But he never really got the opportunity to go on the attack, as he found himself taking a reflexive step back from the looming presence of the Demon King.  
  
Piccolo, never one to waste an advantage needlessly, took a step forward at Goten's instinctive retreat. The shorter male didn't retreat far, he couldn't retreat far. The thick foliage prevented it. As before, Piccolo backed the defensive demi-saiyajin into a tree, but this time, he wasn't going to be violent. Well, he rather thought he wasn't going to get violent. He saw himself reflected back in rose and cocked his head to the side. Clasping the offensive scouter in one hand, Piccolo removed it, letting it fall silently to the ground a couple of feet away. "You shouldn't wear that thing," he remarked, his voice as deep and sultry as a midsummer's night. "You look much better without it."  
  
Goten felt the trunk of the tree at his back, and he knew there was no place to go. Again. He lifted his chin defiantly, and was about to open his mouth to argue against whatever Piccolo thought or had planned, but the larger warrior caught him off guard by grabbing his chin and tilting his head back even higher.  
  
Piccolo could easily read the sudden confusion in Goten's eyes, easier to read than a child's bedtime story. He smirked slightly as he leaned down. His eyes closed to slits as he swiftly tilted his head to the side and placed his own lips against the prince's. Gently, ever so gently, the contact was made. He felt Goten tense against him, but then gradually relax slightly. And then Piccolo pressed a little closer, adding a bit more pressure, feeling the younger male relax even further.  
  
Goten had no idea what he had been thinking of before. He was rather curiously mind-numb at present. Unsure, he wrapped his arms around Piccolo's neck, accidentally knocking the green male's turban off as he pulled for more. He leaned against the taller man, angling his head so that he'd be able to keep the simple contact.  
  
With the absence of the turban, which the Demon Lord barely registered landing though it -did- make a rather audible sound, and the slight shift in their positions, Piccolo's antennae roamed freely into Goten's dark hair. Those delicious ripples of unexpected sensation returned, causing the namek to catch his breath because of their intensity. He moved the hand gripping the prince's chin to entangle in raven hair, while the other skimmed down to gently reside on the half-breed's waist. He didn't know why, but he parted his lips softly, letting his tongue gently touch Goten's still closed lips.  
  
Goten's eyes flew wide then snapped shut before he had actually registered any visuals. He parted his lips just barely, more from shock than actual expectation. He surged against the more powerful warrior, his tail snapping in the air before coiling tightly around Piccolo's hand again. He had no clue what he was doing, no real idea what Piccolo had in mind, but he knew that he wanted it. All of it. No matter the quivering in his knees.  
  
Piccolo felt the strong tail tugging at his hand, so he allowed it to direct him where it willed. He had other things on his mind. Like the feel of Goten, who remained pliant beside him, opening his lips just enough to tease a bit more. Piccolo traced the opening, not allowing himself to force his way into the recesses of the prince's mouth, or at least not doing so yet. He used his tongue to taste, and then bit down on a warm lower lip with his pointed fangs before suckling gently at it. Goten moaned into his mouth, pulling him down for more. That's when Piccolo also realized that the brown tail, that mischievous appendage, had dragged his hand so that he was cupping the prince's rear. Devilishly, Piccolo squeezed his prize and was rewarded with Goten's startled gasp. Piccolo released the kiss, only to begin again.  
  
Clutching at Piccolo like he was, his tail unmindful of anything he thought, could he have actually had anything remotely like a thought process at that time, Goten was aware that his knees had given out on him some time ago. It was his arms around Piccolo's neck, his tail, and the Demon Lord that were keeping the youngest prince from melting into the cracks on the floor. Though, there was one part of his anatomy that he knew wasn't going to melt any time soon, as it was harder than some of the building materials of the strongest warships. Mewling helplessly, Goten threw one leg over Piccolo's thigh, inviting something of which he wasn't even aware.  
  
Piccolo was aware enough to realize how unstable their position was. So, he decided that perhaps he should do something about that. Effortlessly, he picked Goten up, and then pressed the prince to the tree up against which he had been backed. The green warrior was rewarded for his thoughtful efforts by Goten wrapping both legs eagerly around him, even as he opened his lips even more. Finally, Piccolo was admitted into the heated confines of the prince's mouth! He dipped his hungry tongue forward, tasting delicately, inviting the other to return the favor. Tempting, teasing, and tormenting the younger man until he finally complied with the request.  
  
Goten wanted to cry. It hurt, but it felt good. It was strange and exciting and so very foreign. His body was beyond his control, his tail still wrapped around Piccolo's hand, his legs wrapped around Piccolo's waist, and his hard sex pressed up against... Piccolo's hard sex. With a helpless whimper, the younger male rotated his hips as best he could, rubbing against the hard body against him. As he did so, he felt a low rumble passing through him, touching places that he had never really known existed. He moved again, placing moving pressure against Piccolo's desire even as he relieved his own body's need for friction. That low vibration of sound passed through him again, and only then did he realize it was coming from Piccolo.  
  
For Piccolo, this was unexpected. Completely unexpected. But nowhere near unwelcome. He had thought that he would only kiss the prince, a real kiss, not the mock kiss of earlier. But this... Letting the demi-saiyajin find his desired rhythm, Piccolo easily picked it up and added his own movements. He never released the kiss, not completely, reveling in the taste and feel of Goten's mouth open to him, welcoming him. He felt the hands clutching at him, begging him for more even as Goten's movements increased in desperate intensity. He could feel the tree shaking as they moved.  
  
Goten whined into the kiss, dark eclipses of light flashing behind his eyelids. He had to breathe. He broke the kiss with a soul felt moan, but he needed air. His head fell back against the tree, allowing his throat to form a straight line, though air still seemed to not want to traverse the path. He tugged Piccolo's head down, wanting another kiss yet not wanting it at the same time. He couldn't stop moving, couldn't stop his hips from their thrusting against Piccolo. He didn't want to stop. If he could, he'd continue moving until time stood still! "Gods! Good. Please. More!"  
  
Piccolo tilted his head to the side, moving the prince's as well, so that he was able to scrape his sharp teeth against the bare expanse of pale throat being offered to him. This was all becoming too much. Hungrily, he ran his mouth, his tongue, his teeth over as much willing flesh as he could, before simply burying his head in Goten's hair and allowing his antennae to feel. He had never been in a situation like this before. Never. The closest he had ever come to it had been a lifetime ago, a different era, a different person. A different everything. Those memories held no weight now, though. They were simply... memories. Goten's cries, though, were doing things to the Demon Lord, tightening muscles and twisting his insides in very, very pleasurable ways. And then a completely new experience occurred.  
  
Goten looked up as Piccolo threw his head back. The larger man's body ceased all movement save for the hand supporting Goten's weight tightened its hold on his rear. Large eyes glowed a fierce white, and the Demon Lord grinned a smile that flashed fangs brightly. That low, dangerous growl from before rumbled forth again, telling Goten how pleased he was. But Goten was still hard, his body still demanding, and now that Piccolo was through, he was afraid that he'd get no release.  
  
He should have known better.  
  
As easily as spinning a partner on a dance floor, Piccolo shifted their positions again. Goten had his legs spread apart, and his tail still wrapped around Piccolo's hand which was again on his waist. But now Goten had his front pressed against the tree, and he could feel Piccolo's other hand cupping him through his pants. His eyes nearly rolled back into his head at the feel of Piccolo's body pressed completely against his back. "Oh, gods, please. Please. Anything. Anything you want. Please."  
  
"Careful, young prince," Piccolo warned as he tightened his grasp. "You don't want to make promises you won't want to keep later."  
  
"I'll keep it. I promise. I'll keep it," Goten begged, rocking as best he could into the hand holding him and back against the man behind him. He had survived torture before, but that was nothing compared to this. This was... more than he had ever thought to feel. Tears were forming in his eyes, but they weren't released until Piccolo released him. Crying out in frustration, Goten tried to turn, to demand, to do something to stop the injustice of it all, only to feel Piccolo's hand actually slip -into- his clothes, touching green skin to pale skin.  
  
Piccolo heard Goten's sharp cry of startled pleasure, and under it was the sound of wood cracking as the prince dug his hands into the poor tree. The Demon Lord grinned wickedly as he leaned down, whispering of dark things, erotic things, to the prince, who was already losing his mind. He easily traced his sharp fangs over Goten's ear, from lobe to cartilage, before clamping down gently and suckling. His hand had taken up a strong, steady stroke, faster and rougher than the previous movements had been. He smirked at Goten's whimpered exclamations, knowing the demi-saiyajin had no idea what he was saying.  
  
He didn't understand! He didn't understand why his body was bucking as it was. He didn't understand why he couldn't understand what Piccolo was saying, just recognizing the tone of voice that sent shivers up and down his spine and made his tail puff. He didn't understand why he couldn't catch a single breath. But he continued to move, to moan, to demand more and more. He wanted as much as his body could take, and he knew that even when he reached his limit, like some foolish drunk or druggy, he'd demand more. Just as he was about to beg Piccolo to simply kill him, for he knew death was bound to be a bit more lenient than this torture, the world went ablaze with more colors than he had ever seen before. Crying out in rapturous delight, he let his head fall back. His eyes went wide and unseeing, and his aura crackled around him. His seed spilt out, onto his clothes and Piccolo's hand, but those were facts he barely registered as the intensity of the orgasm hit him so hard it knocked him unconscious.  
  
Piccolo caught the collapsed form easily before picking him up and cradling him close. He thought briefly of what to do, and knew that returning to the Prince's room would be a good idea. Yet, he still hesitated. This was the first real experience of this nature that he had ever... done. He didn't want it to end. Not yet, at least. So, instead of returning the young male to his room, Piccolo decided to find a comfortable spot in the garden and await his return to awareness. Though, he admitted with a wicked smirk, it was rather nice to have caused Goten to pass out. Very, very nice.  
  
Upon closer examination of their clothes and according to his own personal discomfort, the green male realized he was going to have to clean and re- clothe himself and the prince. Somewhere near the middle-back of the secluded garden was a fountain almost wholly obscured from the rest of the garden, so he gathered up Goten and headed towards it. He had discovered it previously, while exploring the small expanse of garden. The water was cool and clean, and just what he needed. Gently, he laid Goten down and disrobed himself and then the demi-saiyajin. Piccolo couldn't help but admire the unconscious form in his arms. The ivory skin stretched taut over sculpted muscles. Every facet was elegant and unique, unlike any he'd ever laid eyes on previously. The green warrior thought to compare the prince to his dimensional alter, but found that he couldn't. There were no real similarities in Piccolo's mind.  
  
Utilizing his cape as a washcloth, he quickly but carefully removed any traces of the sticky substances that coated them both. Tossing the soiled cloth away, he reclaimed his easy embrace of the defenseless prince. Seeing Goten like that, appearing innocent and vulnerable, and touching him, although not sexually, brought up a surge of emotion again. What was happening to him? He'd never been so drawn in by someone. To hold him, kiss him, do things he'd never even imagined he'd do with anyone -ever-. 'What have I gotten myself into? I must be insane.'  
  
In two quick flashes, he'd clothed the younger male and himself, foregoing his usual cape and turban, as well as vaporized the soiled clothing. Piccolo held Goten in his lap, leaning his cheek against a warm forehead, reflecting slightly on what was going through his system. It was so strange to feel so... content. Was he actually happy, for once? As if answering for him, his heart sped up in his chest, bringing a tiny smile to his face. He glanced down at the demi-saiyajin in his arms. There was a feeling welling up inside Piccolo as he gazed upon Goten. He'd felt it slowly gaining strength over the past few weeks but hadn't been able to name it. He still didn't know what to call the feeling, and it was overwhelming his senses. What could he call this thing that overtook every single sensibility, every -sense-, and every shred of his being? Was there even a name for such a thing?  
  
He didn't have any more time to think on it because Goten was waking up. The prince's heavy lids lazily opened to reveal glazed eyes, shining brightly the moment they focused in on Piccolo.  
  
"Hi," Goten smiled warmly. The demi-saiyajin snuggled against Piccolo's chest, his tail actively seeking its own purchase on the larger male. Tilting his face up slightly, he pressed his lips very softly to the other's in the most tender of kisses, brushing their lips together only for a few seconds. Resettling back against the broad chest, Goten smiled complacently. Was this a dream? It had to be. Nothing this good could be real. They had shared something, been intimate. 'Does it get any -better- than this? I can't even imagine something more astounding.' Yawning slightly, he asked, "What time is it?"  
  
"Late," was all Piccolo could answer.  
  
Automatically, Goten reached up for his scouter to find the time, but it wasn't attached to his head like it usually was. He bolted up out of the security of Piccolo's arms, his eyes sparking with panic. He knew he was fully clothed, and he knew Piccolo had seen him completely bare before, but without his apparatus, he felt completely naked. It was such an integral part of who he was as a member of society. "Where's my scouter?"  
  
"Back by where we were." The green male smirked, partially amused by the frantic look on his companion's face. He stood then, and with a snap, his cape and turban appeared on him. Slowly, the tall man began heading back through the dense foliage with Goten just behind him.  
  
It didn't take long for them to find the small electronic device since Piccolo's short-term memory was fairly sharp. Scooping it up, Goten pressed a sequence of buttons on it and looked into the eyepiece though he did not affix it to his head. "Damn. It's -very- late," he commented. Fiddling around with the apparatus, a slight frown crossed his face. "Did you mean what you said earlier? About me looking better without this?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Goten's lips curved into a wry smile. "Too bad I need to use it."  
  
"That can be one of our lessons," Piccolo iterated. "I'll teach you not to rely on that ridiculous contraption."  
  
"I'd like that." The demi-saiyajin paused for a moment then slipped the scouter into one of his pants pockets. "I guess we should be getting back to our rooms now. We do have matches in a few hours."  
  
Even though Piccolo knew this to be true, he loathed having to let Goten go so soon. He saw the same sentiment reflected back in the prince's eyes. It was unusual for him to crave the company and companionship of another person in this way or any way, to be honest. Not for the first time since his arrival in this alternate reality, the Demon Lord found himself unsure of what to do. "I suppose you're right."  
  
Goten fidgeted for a moment, appearing uncertain and indecisive. His tail curled low behind him before finally wrapping around his waist. As if finally coming to a resolution, he announced, "All right. I'm going to do this and then run away immediately... because if I don't run away, I'm never going to."  
  
Piccolo gazed down at the demi-saiyajin and smirked. With every moment that passed, he considered the younger male to be increasingly appealing. In a split second, Goten had jumped up again and placed the most feathery of kisses on Piccolo's lips. A light breeze swept through the empty hallway coming from the garden behind them, causing the taller man's cape to flutter up and around them, embracing them as they embraced, concealing them from the world, allowing them the privacy of their last kiss of the night.  
  
Abruptly, Goten broke the kiss. He felt as if he were drunk again, as if it were really the night of his father's return, and everything between then and now had been some sort of crazy dream. But this was reality! He dropped down to the ground and took a few steps back, a pale flush creeping across his features. His tail shook from its desire to unwind, and his refusal to admit it. Before running down the hall, away from the green stranger, he whispered, "Good night! I'll see you tomorrow!"  
  
Piccolo gave a small smile, lifting his hand into the air in a brief wave. He waited until Goten was completely out of sight before moving. Turning in the opposite direction, he strode down the hall towards his own room. In considering all of the night's events, many things had become confused, muddled. Such as his emotions and his level of sanity. But one thing was abundantly clear in his mind.  
  
Piccolo wanted to do far more than just fight with Prince Goten. 


	12. War Zone

Disclaimer: Summer and I (Deani) don't own DBZ. And... don't these things get a little redundant after a while? Nobody and Nobody-Else don't own Blah- blah-blah. Yadda yadda yadda. Who cares anymore, you know? It's quite obvious -as- -fans- that none of us owns anything. Seriously. So. Anyway, I'd like to take this opportunity to thank those of you who review. Every review is worth its weight in platinum and then some. I know you all have a lot of questions about how things came to be, so rest assured that all will be revealed by the end of 'Kingdom Come'; you just have to be patient. And now for the real nitty-gritty...  
  
Warning: AU fic. This work is YAOI. There are RELATIONSHIPS. Between MALES. If romance and angst aren't your thing, I highly suggest you find something in the Action/Adventure section. This... is not about the fighting, though that is incorporated. This... is about what happens if things were... different. And gay. Very, very gay.  
  
Kingdom Come  
  
~ Chapter 12  
  
"All hail Lord Kakarrot!"  
  
The sound of the gong reverberated throughout the arena, reflecting off every available surface. With his tail curling high behind him, Lord Kakarrot strode arrogantly onto the veranda, which served as his and the royal family's private seat for the tournament. His lips were painfully drawn into a smile that was mostly contemptuous and forced. 'Yes, yes. I hate you all,' he thought as he waved civilly to the masses. 'If I didn't have to have someone over whom to rule, I'd have you all beaten and killed.'  
  
He took his seat to the right of Mistress Bulma and, after several minutes, noticed the two empty seats to his right. The one to the far right was expectedly empty, belonging to Prince Goten who was already down near the platform awaiting his match against Jeice. But the seat nearest to him... "Zarbon," Lord Kakarrot addressed the blue-skinned guardian of his mistress. "Has Prince Gohan not yet arrived?"  
  
"No, milord," answered Zarbon.  
  
"And how long until the first match?"  
  
"Approximately ten minutes, sire."  
  
The emperor's eyebrows drew dramatically downward. "Find him. -Now-."  
  
"Of course, milord." With a whip of emerald hair, the statuesque warrior disappeared down the adjacent corridor. He returned to his post five minutes later, a bleary-eyed Prince Gohan in tow.  
  
Gohan fell like dead weight into his chair, rubbing his eyes behind the scouter. His black spikes had no sense of direction as they jutted out at all angles. Yawning, the demi-saiyajin completely missed the look of massive exasperation in his father's eyes. "Good morning, father," he finally mumbled.  
  
"You're late, Gohan," returned Lord Kakarrot. He eyed his elder son's sloppy apparel and demeanor. "Where the hell have you been? Your brother's bout is practically upon us. Less than five minutes!" he hissed, cuffing Gohan discreetly on the back of his head.  
  
Assuaging the area, the demi-saiyajin gritted his teeth. "What's the big deal anyway? Goten always beats Jeice. I don't see what difference me -almost- being late to his match makes."  
  
"Speak to me in that tone again, and I will send you on a planet surveying mission. -Alone-," the emperor spat in tones low enough for only the prince to hear. "We must always convey a united, unbreakable front to all of these gutless lowlifes. You -know- this. If even one tiny semblance of a crack is visible, they will find a way to attack, and we'll have a needless war on our hands. We saiyajins cherish battle, but not insanity. The whole empire would crumble under such a war, and I will -not- jeopardize my position so you can get a few extra minutes of sleep! Do you understand?"  
  
"I understand, father," Gohan nodded. Running his hands through his unruly hair, he straightened up in his seat. "All this fuss because I overslept," he muttered to himself.  
  
"Get an alarm," remarked Lord Kakarrot, focusing his attention down onto the fighting platform.  
  
Feeling it best to switch to a more pleasant topic, the prince inquired, "So, who do you favor today, milord?"  
  
Kakarrot grinned smugly. "You were correct. Goten has never had a problem defeating Jeice before, so I do not see why he would now. He will win. Vegeta's and Recoom's match should be interesting, though I have no favorite there. And somehow, I'll wager that Demon Lord Piccolo shall be victorious over Burter. The way he handled that last imbecile was far quicker than I'd imagined it would be. And you, of course, are always my favorite in the tournament."  
  
The prince returned the smirk. "Of course I'll win. I've never lost."  
  
"Speaking of your match, my son," the royal began, "after you put on your little show for this moronic mass of rejects, you have my permission to dispose of the nobody you're fighting."  
  
"I get to kill him?" Gohan asked, glee glinting fiercely in his eyes.  
  
"Yes," his father replied. "The uselessness of his kind has grown tiresome. They need to be shaken up some by losing their very best warrior. Besides, the Grand Duke of Harethan has made an offer for their planet, a very lucrative offer. One I'd rather not decline. In fact, I may be traversing in a few months to purge the planet myself. So. Kill him."  
  
"With pleasure, milord." The demi-saiyajin grinned, his mood far better than it had been a mere minute previously.  
  
"Speaking of killing," Kakarrot continued, "we must decide on a new name for the Ginyu Force soon. We can't very well keep calling them that since you executed Captain Ginyu." Thinking back on how he'd first heard of the incident including Ginyu's death, a genuine smile came to his lips. Lord Kakarrot had never liked Captain Ginyu. The taller male was too strong and too stupid for his own good. Unfortunately, he was also ambitious. Strong, stupid, and ambitious did not sit well with the saiyajin. Upon hearing Gohan explain the circumstances surrounding Ginyu's downfall, the emperor's only response was, 'Okay.' Kakarrot still liked to reflect on the death, as it was an enjoyable memory. "Heh. Good riddance, eh? He always was such an idiot. I wish I could've been here to see the look on his face just before you killed him."  
  
"Well, he did lose control of his bladder before he tried to escape," Gohan noted, "if that's any consolation."  
  
The emperor's grin turned sour as he made a face of revulsion. "I hope you had the main hall completely sanitized thereafter."  
  
"Of course," his son reassured him.  
  
"Good." Lord Kakarrot shuddered a bit. "That's disgusting. Now, I'm even more pleased Ginyu's dead. What a waste of molecules. Ugh."  
  
Gohan simply nodded, turning his eyes to the platform on which Goten and Jeice had just stepped. He still couldn't fathom that his father would dare question his loyalty to his younger brother. The idea was absolutely absurd!  
  
When Lord Kakarrot was having Goten 'trained' to become the next Royal Inquisitor, hadn't Gohan been the one to tend the wounds left on his brother's body when he was a child? Hadn't it been Gohan who would cease the torture sessions because his baby brother was too stubborn to cry out? Wasn't it Gohan who was the most proud when the younger demi-saiyajin was eleven and killed the previous Inquisitor to succeed him? Wasn't it Gohan who taught Goten everything he knew? They shared the same blood. They shared the same loyalty. That was important. Nothing was more sacred than loyalty.  
  
Soon, the fight between Goten and Jeice began, and Lord Kakarrot noticed for the second time in two days that Krillin and Yamcha cheered for the young prince. "Strange, isn't it," he noted aloud to his elder son, "how our human guests cheer for your brother."  
  
"Not really," Gohan replied nonchalantly, his eyes trained on the match. He more or less did not care that it was a rather meaningless fight, as he knew that Jeice was severely outmatched. But, the prince knew that as long as he was here, he might as well watch his brother, try to learn his moves. Their last match had left him winded, and he wanted to keep on his toes for their fight at the end of the tournament. "I'm sure they just root for the seemingly stronger warrior."  
  
"That isn't true," countered the emperor. "They've cheered only for your brother, Vegeta, and their own Demon Lord Piccolo. They give their support to no one else, including you."  
  
The prince tore his eyes from the bout to glare at his father in irritation. "Why wouldn't they support me? I've won this tournament every year for the last two decades!"  
  
"Perhaps they do not know," smirked the older man. "Either way, they are singular, are they not? Favoring your brother as they do. These other sycophants only cheer for him because he is a prince. I wonder what makes the humans favor him."  
  
"Who knows? Who cares?" Gohan spat. Despite his words, he still steamed from the fact that the humans did not root for him. Who did they think they were?! And what did it matter, really? Insignificant humans didn't matter to him. What they thought was irrelevant. Nevertheless, it bothered him somewhat. How could -anyone- favor Goten over -him-? It was simply ludicrous.  
  
Before returning to watching the match once more, Gohan caught a glimpse of his father unconsciously taking a hold of Mistress Bulma's hand. Scowling, he turned back to his brother's bout in a huff. 'Ridiculous humans!' he shouted in his head. 'Father destroyed nearly her entire race, and yet look at how he coddles that whore! He'd kill everyone in sight and then some, just so long as his precious jewel was fine. -Disgusting-! And so weak. What a fool she's made of Father. Whore.'  
  
Lord Kakarrot merely smirked again and shrugged, focusing in on the fight once again. 'Gohan is so easy to provoke,' he thought inwardly. More often than not, the royal tried to rouse his sons into quarrelling, into a greater fighting spirit. It rarely worked on Goten; in fact, -almost never- would've been a more appropriate descriptive term. However, it frequently succeeded with Gohan, the more temperamental of the two demi-saiyajins. Lord Kakarrot liked it when they fought and worked -against- each other. Hopefully, this little instance of the guests favoring Goten over him would help since it attacked Gohan's overdeveloped sense of self-importance, but if not, the emperor knew he'd have to step up measures and find something that was even more of a sore spot for his elder son.  
  
***  
  
He returned to the grand arena at the palace only in time for the second match. The board showed that Prince Goten had won his match as expected, but he remained unconcerned with that. It was the Demon Lord Piccolo's fight that interested the thin, cloaked man. Keeping his hood pulled well over his face allowing only enough space for him to see the match, he sat as still as stone, trying to remain inconspicuous amongst the brash lower- class lemmings surrounding him in the stadium.  
  
His eyes followed every move between the green male and his opponent. Once again, he witnessed Piccolo merely toying with his competition. The punches and kicks that Burter threw seldom landed, and the very few that did simply bounced off without affecting the green fighter. Piccolo was too quick for Burter; that much was obvious. And his sharp attacks were far more damaging. This fight wasn't going to last much longer.  
  
Suddenly, an unconscious Burter was laid out on the ground... outside of the ring. The murmuring of thousands of people became nearly deafening. What had happened? Did anyone see? One moment they were fighting, and the next...? What had Piccolo done? Surely someone must have seen the move that cut the amphibian-like warrior down? Burter didn't move a muscle as he was hoisted onto a stretcher and quickly hauled out of the stadium.  
  
The strange thin man watching was stilled with shock. What kind of power could Piccolo possess? It had to be immense! Far greater than he'd imagined. A power like his was unknown to this world. To defeat one of the best warriors in the galaxy so swiftly, so easily! And moving so quickly that no one even saw what happened. Absolutely unheard of. This was not the man he remembered; this Piccolo was different. He studied the tall green fighter intently. No sweat gleamed off his form. Piccolo wasn't winded. He didn't even look like he'd just fought.  
  
Carefully making sure his cloak fully obscured him from view, the man exited the stadium. He would confront them soon.  
  
It was all a matter of time.  
  
***  
  
Vegeta stepped onto the white tiles of the fighting area amidst the low rumble of the crowd's jeers and cheers. His battle armor was like a second skin to him, yet it felt weighted, as if he were young again and this was his virgin fight. His tail was wrapped securely around his waist, something for which he was eternally grateful, as he wouldn't know where to put it should it not go there. This was not his first fight. He had been a fighter here for a number of years, and a court joke for as long as he could remember. He was used to their taunts and calls. He could ignore them.  
  
However, he could not ignore the cheers from the two humans. Or rather, he could not ignore Yamcha's cheers of encouragement.  
  
He had woken up that morning with an overwhelming sense of belonging. He had been still mostly clothed, pressed up as close as he could to Yamcha. The scarred human had his arms wrapped around him even as he returned the embrace with arms and tail. He hadn't wanted to move, just remain there. Forever. Yet, he knew that he had to fight, and that it was time for him to leave. He tarried for as long as he could before extracting himself. As he left, he turned to see Yamcha wide awake, silently watching him. Brown eyes stared at him, and Vegeta had nothing to say. So he fled, his tail wrapping securely around him as he ran out. He hadn't known what to do, what to say.  
  
The short male fell into a fighting stance immediately, trying to push away his tumultuous thoughts. He remembered the previous night, much to his chagrin. He remembered his weakness, and how he had wanted nothing more than Yamcha to want him. He knew that Yamcha never would, not now. He was weak. Yamcha wanted someone strong. Someone regal and arrogant. Someone like his own version of Vegeta. A true prince. Not some has-been, washed up, joke of a saiyajin.  
  
Across from the erstwhile prince, Recoom stepped onto the white tiles. The crowd's noise was falling away. Vegeta relaxed from his position. Together, they walked a few paces towards the middle of the arena and bowed to each other, though it was in reality a mere mockery of the show of respect. They then turned to bow to their liege.  
  
A dog-like man came to the edge of the stage, which was a cue for the two fighters to fall into their stances. And then the bell. The fight was on!  
  
Recoom grinned as he faced off against the shorter warrior, glad for the opportunity to show the runt what kind of trouble he was in. How dare the scum get his illustrious leader, Captain Ginyu, killed! Granted, it was really the human's fault, but he couldn't very well attack the low-class vermin. First, it was against Lord Kakarrot's rules. Second, it was rather beneath him to fight someone who wouldn't offer him at least a little bit of fun. Captain Ginyu had been the best of them, and he had been killed because that stupid Yamcha guy had decided he wanted to visit the scrawny little twerp!  
  
Just as Vegeta was falling into his first fighting stance, Recoom attacked. The larger fighter grinned as the shorter male was nearly thrown out of the ring. Dark eyes met enraged ones. Recoom snorted at the shorter male's stupidity. It would have been smarter had Vegeta simply allowed himself to fall out of the ring. Of course, this allowed for the once prince to enjoy more pain than of which he ever conceived. Recoom's grinned to a mere baring of teeth as he charged forward again.  
  
Vegeta had been thrown off balance by the sudden attack, though there was no reason he should have been. He had known long ago that Recoom and the rest of the Ginyu Force were a pack of rabid, mongrel cheaters, and this just proved the point. Vegeta snarled as he caught himself from tumbling over the edge of the arena. He raced upward to evade Recoom's forward charge, landing behind the ogre and managing to deliver a swift mule-kick to the kidney area. Well, it would have been the kidney area should Recoom have been built humanoid on the inside as well as outside. Unfortunately for Vegeta, he wasn't.  
  
Recoom didn't even bother grunting from the meaningless hit. He spun around, using his elbow to smash Vegeta in the face. The shorter fighter stumbled back, the world spinning. Usually, Recoom would hold a bit back when fighting him. That wasn't the case this time around. Spinning away as he was, he noticed that the white tiles on the arena floor were splattered with blood. It wasn't until the substance fell into his eyes that Vegeta realized that the he was bleeding.  
  
First blood went to Recoom.  
  
Vegeta managed to get his feet under him long enough to clear his vision. That allowed him to see Recoom coming after him, though only just. Recoom was moving fast, as if he were planet purging. He was going so fast that when he passed Vegeta, the short male felt the wind before he felt the pain of the strike aimed at the back of his ribs. It hurt, but that was like saying that space was big. Vegeta fell forward a step, his eyes blazing wide from the power behind the strike. He knew that at least one rib was broken, probably three.  
  
As Recoom allowed the pain to set in, he reached out with one hand and mercilessly grabbed the brown tail that was still wrapped around the saiyajin's waist. Spinning Vegeta like a dance partner, he flung the shorter man away and then began to spin him around, laughing as he did so.  
  
Vegeta retaliated with a desperate chi-blast aimed at the larger fighter's face. It was enough to singe the ogre's eyebrows, but not enough to actually get the psycho to release his hold. Gritting his teeth in vexation and pain, Vegeta called upon all one of his most lethal attacks and aimed it at Recoom's left eye.  
  
The audience was put to silence by the painful scream that echoed and then re-echoed against the high walls.  
  
Vegeta bounced off the tiles before flipping over and landing on his feet, still inside the boundaries. His brow was furrowed from the pain in his tail and the pain caused by every breath the took, but he watched in morbid glee as the mongrel warrior in front of him clutched at his eye in pain. He didn't utter any form of communication, though. He knew it would be useless. With a smirk of contempt that hid the pain from his injuries, Vegeta flew forward, his hands glowing with energy.  
  
Roaring with pain, Recoom let loose his own chi attack, though with the loss of his eye, it lacked a certain accuracy. Vegeta was hit hard on the shoulder, spinning him away from the rest of the attack. The audience behind the shorter fighter suffered because of Recoom's lack of marksmanship.  
  
The air sang with the sound battle cries, cries of pain, defiant screams, and of flesh hitting flesh, as Vegeta threw punch after punch at the seemingly indestructible behemoth before him. Recoom simply took the punches as if they were nothing, as they were worth nothing against him. Yet, he was not as effective in his own offensive tactics, the pain of his injury hampering his ability. Though, what he lacked in grace, he more than made up for in power and force.  
  
Above the arena, in his booth, Lord Kakarrot began to scowl. Granted, he had no favorites in this game, but he could tell that Recoom was inflicting more damage on Vegeta than was needed. Or wanted. 'We can't have this. Vegeta gets stronger every year. I don't want him thinking that he has the chance to become a Super Saiyajin. It's why he's not allowed away from the Palace. And that's why his mongrel son is . treated as he is. I don't want -either- of them getting the idea that they have a chance of opposing us,' the ruler thought. Frowning as he sat back, he considered how Recoom was on the verge of breaking the tournament rules. 'Does he even realize how close he is to killing Vegeta? If not, that's just one more reason he should die.'  
  
Vegeta grunted with pain as he hit the tiled floor, skidding to the edge. If he fell out of the ring, he would be out of bounds, and therefore the loser of the fight. But he wasn't going to lose. Not this time. Not with Yamcha there. He had already made a fool of himself twice in front of the human; he would not do so again. Unfortunately, it was not the saiyajin's fighting skills that stopped his rapid, yet very painful movements. Instead, it was Recoom's booted foot delivering a rib shattering kick that changed Vegeta's momentum to a different direction.  
  
In the stands, the three guests were cringing from sympathy. Yamcha was looking at the fight with naked worry in his eyes. Krillin had seen Vegeta and Recoom fight in their home dimension and knew what kind of chances the prince had, meaning not many. Their cheers began to die down as Vegeta continued to get beaten, each time taking more and more time to rise up off the bloody platform. Until, finally, Vegeta could take no more.  
  
He wasn't the only one.  
  
"Oh, Kami! He's gonna kill 'im!" Krillin whispered in horror. This was so blatantly against the rules that it was a wonder that Recoom was going to go through with it.  
  
Vegeta fell to the arena floor, bouncing as he landed. He lay there, defenseless, as above him, in the air, Recoom powered up his sure-kill attack. He couldn't even hear whatever the larger warrior was shouting; the blood in his ears muting everything. Vegeta tried to pick himself up, but the effort was in vain as he simply collapsed back to the ground. Dark eyes stared upward tiredly. He was so tired of it all. Tired of being worthless. Tired of being a mockery of what he could have been. Tired of screwing everything up. Tired of being him.  
  
Eyes that had seen the destruction of countless civilizations, had seen wonders of which many couldn't even dream, had seen empires die and empires born, closed in defeat.  
  
Recoom grinned in malicious glee before releasing his parting gift to the once proud saiyajin. The crowd was struck silent by the power. Lord Kakarrot stood up from his throne, irate that the soldier was breaking the rules with such a lethal blast. Vegeta simply waited for his death.  
  
The blast never landed.  
  
It was deflected away from the arena by a much smaller energy attack, though no less powerful. Whereas the crowd before was silent, waiting for the death of one of the better-known fighters, they were now silent from sheer shock. Vegeta managed to open his eyes to see his benefactor standing over him.  
  
"Stop," Yamcha stated calmly. "This match is over. Leave him alone."  
  
"What?!" Recoom shouted. He fell lightly to the ground. "Who do you think you are, scum?"  
  
"What difference does that make?" Yamcha snapped. He knew he was losing his temper, and that wasn't the smartest move to make, but he couldn't help it. He hated bullies who picked on the people about whom he cared. "You should just quit now. Walk away."  
  
"Walk away from a puny human?! Never!"  
  
"Do it," spat the dark-haired male, "or I'll be forced to hurt you. I don't like to be forced."  
  
"You? Hurt -me-? You and what army?!" Recoom sneered.  
  
"No army. Just me," Yamcha replied, falling into his most familiar fighting stance. "Now, I'm giving you one more chance. Lay off, or I'm gonna hurt you."  
  
"You're gonna hafta -kill- me, human -ass-!" Recoom laughed derisively, confident that he would be more than able to handle both Vegeta -and- the scarred fighter standing before him.  
  
Up in the royal box, Goten clenched his fists tightly. Recoom was clearly about to break the rules of the tournament, and now, a human not even participating in the event was down on the platform about to engage in combat instead of the nearly-dead Vegeta. "-Father-," Goten growled from his seat near the emperor. "You have to stop this. Call the match! This is madness!"  
  
"Surely you jest," smirked Lord Kakarrot. With a wave of his hand toward the ring, he went on. "Have you seen this kind of entertainment in the second round of -any- tournament before this? I think not! Besides, if the human doesn't kill Recoom, I intend to do so. He should know better than to defy me by ignoring the system. Let them fight!"  
  
With a large, wicked smile, Lord Kakarrot stood and moved to the railing at the edge of the veranda. "Fellow spectators, what shall be done?" The gathered audience pried their eyes away from the battlefield, and toward their liege, but Yamcha and Recoom remained staring each other down. "Should I call the match, or should I let them fight?"  
  
An overwhelming clamor rose up from the crowd, chanting one single word. "Fight! Fight! Fight!"  
  
"Well," laughed the emperor. "It seems the crowd wishes for a fight, as I do. This is a fight to the death. May the best warrior survive!"  
  
Another gong was sounded, one a bit darker, more morbid.  
  
The masses roared their approval of this interesting turn of events. It was egregiously raucous, but Yamcha could still pick out two distinctive voices above the din.  
  
"Kill the bastard, Yamcha!" shouted Krillin from his seat in the Ginyu box.  
  
"And make it quick!" added Piccolo, leaning against the railing near the box. The green male turned his head and glanced up at Goten, who nodded imperceptibly then made a quick gesture to the medics by the ring to take Vegeta to the labs. Lord Kakarrot and Gohan, so enthralled with the impending impromptu fight, didn't even notice the exchange. However, it did not go completely overlooked.  
  
Bulma witnessed the short scene but said nothing. The day before, while she'd begged off the tournament due to not feeling well, Trunks had visited her, informing her very excitedly about something he'd just seen. She could scarcely believe him when he told her that Prince Goten had kissed Piccolo. It was too unfathomable to be true! But now... The one small moment she'd just observed was a firsthand sign that the Demon Lord and the prince were progressing as Trunks had said. The faintest of smiles appeared on her rosy lips. Things were just starting to get interesting.  
  
On the battlefield, Yamcha gave a curt nod of his head before skyrocketing upwards. Even though he hated this kind of fighting, the kind where it was life or death where there was always the chance that -he'd- wind up dead, he was angry. Angry at Vegeta for not simply falling out of the fight, for thinking he had something to prove to the mongrel masses out there who were even now cheering on for more bloodshed and death. Angry at Recoom for not knowing when enough was enough, or if he did know, then simply not caring. Angry at Lord Kakarrot for not calling the match quits sooner. Angry at the entire world in general, but at the monster in front of him the most. Recoom's grinning face, sans one eye, became his target as he called up for his first volley of attacks. He knew that they had to be his last. There was not going to be any kind of second chance.  
  
The pink lens of Recoom's scouter was alight with power readings that fluctuated madly. His grin faltered as he tried to figure out what was wrong with it. His confusion granted Yamcha the opportunity he needed. The large Ginyu member was struck by a small, yet powerful attack. He stumbled backwards from the force, set off-balance and unprepared. Yamcha followed up with rapid hits and kicks, so forceful that they snapped the larger man's head back.  
  
It was Recoom's turn to land on the ground, yet the ogre bounced once before regaining his feet. In doing so, he positioned himself to catch Yamcha's next energy attack square in the chest. That one pushed him back to the very edge of the arena. When the smoke cleared around him, Recoom was ready to charge forward, enjoying the pain that thrummed through his body. He remained in place, though, as he caught sight of Yamcha.  
  
The human had his feet planted firmly, one arm upraised with his palm flattened, and his eyes narrowed to slits. Behind him, he could hear Vegeta's labored breathing, even over the uproar of the crowd. This was an unprecedented display! Yamcha's wicked grin mirrored the one Recoom had worn earlier, because he knew that the show was almost over. Recoom was done for.  
  
The energy disc sliced through the air and through Recoom's neck effortless, dissipating as soon as its task was done.  
  
The crowd was silent, allowing the distant sounds of the revelry of the street party to be heard inside the arena, as Recoom's head fell to the ground outside the arena. The large muscled body of the beheaded warrior was soon to follow.The crowd was silent, allowing the distant sounds of the revelry of the street party to be heard inside the arena, and allowing Yamcha to hear Krillin's muttered, "Thief."  
  
Yamcha didn't wait around to watch the collapse of his opponent. Already, he was running towards the medics. He wanted to know how Vegeta was. He realized as he jumped to the ground that the shorter male was already gone, taken to the infirmary. He skidded to a halt as the guards at the many entrances and exits blocked his path. It was only then that he became conscious of the thunderous sound of applause.  
  
Up in the royal box, Bulma clapped at the sight of the dead Ginyu member. Lord Kakarrot grinned at her display, something so rare, he wasn't even sure it had ever occurred before then.  
  
"Now, -that-... was a show-stopping number," remarked Prince Gohan to his father, grinning broadly.  
  
"Indeed," agreed the emperor. "I don't think it could've been any better than if I'd killed Recoom myself. Who would've thought a human could display such power? But still. Nothing compared to our own. I don't think we should worry about him, do you?" With a few shouted words and a wave of his hand to the guards, they parted and allowed Yamcha to exit the arena.  
  
Yamcha looked at the gathered masses, cheering wildly for the carnage that had just occurred. He shook his head as the announcer's voice was drowned out because of it. He caught the word "dismissed" though, so he took it to mean that he was dismissed. Without further consideration, he jetted out of the arena to where he knew Vegeta was going to be treated for his injuries.  
  
Lord Kakarrot saw out of the corner of his eye that his mistress was still applauding and even smiling. Leaning towards Gohan, he commented, "See there? -That- is how an emperor's wife should act. She is a true lady, unlike your wretched mother. Ah, but if only she were my wife instead."  
  
Gohan made no reply, simply acknowledging the statement despite his firm mindset against it. 'She is no lady,' he thought. 'She's a whore. And you're a fool, Father.' He stood, then, and stretched his arms high over his head. "Well," he said, "I suppose I should get down to the arena floor. My fight is scheduled to start soon."  
  
"Yes, yes," nodded Kakarrot. "Don't forget what I told you earlier."  
  
"Of course, Father," the elder prince smirked as he left the box. Walking down the long hall to the lift, he spoke aloud quietly, to no one but himself. "I always keep the family's best interests in mind."  
  
***  
  
The medics, when satisfied that Vegeta was out of any kind of danger, popped him out of the tank, gave him some medication, and then told him to leave the infirmary. He blinked bleary eyes as he took in the scenery. Hundreds of people were in the infirmary, collateral damage from fights, from the street party, or contestants whose fights were the previous day. He saw Jeice, standing beside Burter's tank, waiting for the large amphibian to get out. Turning around slowly, trying not to cause himself any more pain than was absolutely necessary, he came face to chest with Yamcha.  
  
"Hi," Yamcha said cheerfully. He had been waiting for a few hours, mostly because there wasn't a free tank to put the saiyajin into when he arrived. "How do you feel?"  
  
"Like hell," Vegeta replied. He blinked his eyes at the human, wondering if he was actually there. Wondering if they were both actually there. He may have gotten out of the tank, but the drugs they use to calm the submerged wasn't out of his system. He felt as if his head was stuffed with cotton. Yet at the same time, he knew that if it weren't for the fact that his entire body hurt and his sudden sense of caution, he'd wrap his arms, and tail, around the human in a tight hug right in front of everyone and their mother. But, he was left wondering why Yamcha had saved him. And how strong the human really was. He seemed to have defeated Recoom quickly. And without a mark to prove he had been in a battle. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"I was waiting for you to get out of the tank," Yamcha answered. He moved so that Vegeta could walk with him, or past him, to get out of the infirmary. "You weren't in there long."  
  
"I'm usually not," Vegeta spat, irritated. Yamcha was used to such brisk manners, but the shorter male surprised him a moment later by elaborating. "I'm usually only in there around tournament time, and that's when the tanks are in high demand. Only our most serious wounds are healed, the rest are left up to time to mend."  
  
"Oh. Is that why you seem to still be in a lot of pain?"  
  
"Yes," Vegeta said. He hissed in pain as he wrapped his tail around his waist. The rest of the trip to his room was made in silence, though he made sure to go to -HIS- room this time. When he was outside his door, he turned to the scarred human and looked at the ground. "Thank you. For waiting for me to get out of the tank."  
  
"It was no problem," Yamcha responded quietly. He tilted his head to the side before resting one hand on Vegeta's shoulder. He was about to say something more, but found that no words were willing to come out of his mouth.  
  
"As soon as I take these drugs, I will be asleep until the day after tomorrow," Vegeta stated as he looked up. "My body is healed for the most part, but due to the rapid healing, my muscles are going to be going into constant spasms. It is. not a pleasant thing."  
  
"Eh. No. No, I don't think it would be," Yamcha said, his hand falling away. "So, I guess I won't see you tomorrow."  
  
"Heh. Not unless you want to come by and watch me sleep. I prefer to be unconscious through it. As do most of the warriors who suffer through this particular ordeal," Vegeta elucidated with a mocking grin.  
  
"Hey. You never know. I might just do that," Yamcha replied. Vegeta shook his head, and turned to enter his room. Yamcha watched the tailed warrior's staggered movements. "After all, I do know how to get in."  
  
When the saiyajin merely grunted and allowed the door to slide shut in Yamcha's face, the joy drained from the scarred male's face. He sighed heavily and began walking the long stretch back to his room. Disappointment clouded his brown eyes. 'He was just trying to get rid of me,' he pointed out to himself, swallowing hard. Had he been mistaken? Didn't the smaller male practically -beg- him to love him the previous night? He didn't understand. But he did know one thing. He'd have to sleep alone for the first night in months... and just when he'd gotten used to having someone there. Having Vegeta there.  
  
Vegeta was already in his room, the door closed behind him, when Yamcha's last words to him registered. His brow furrowed a moment in confusion, wondering if that was meant as something other than the innocent statement it appeared to be. Sighing, the shorter male simply shrugged it off, "If he wanted to take me, he could have done so at any time. Especially with the ease with which he took out Recoom."  
  
The once prince took his medicines, removed his clothes, and laid down. As an unnatural sleep tried to claim him, he drifted off to thoughts and concerns about Yamcha. And what the human had done to him and for him. After what Vegeta had done to the scared warrior, how could Yamcha save him like he did? The human was unlike anyone else in the universe, literally. Strength, kindness, forgiveness. The capacity for those traits in that man's soul had no bounds. Vegeta's own empty existence had been drawn to it from the start. If only things had been different. If only they could make things right. If only...  
  
'If only he could love me.'  
  
***  
  
Goten paced the length of his room, hands clasped behind his back, brow creased in thought, tail lashing agitatedly through the air after him. He had come to his bedroom a half an hour before to retire for the night and had even changed into just his black sleep pants, though he hadn't yet removed his scouter. But how could he sleep at a time like this? He wasn't sleepy, though somewhat tired. He was more... nervous. Anxious. To say he had a lot on his mind would've been an understatement of epic proportions.  
  
Previously, the tournament had never coerced any sort of real emotional response out of Goten, save for anger towards his older brother. He would fight, and he would win, until the final match against Gohan. Then he would always lose. He came in second every year since he was eleven years old and first entered the tournament. Both his father and his brother never failed to remind him that Gohan had won the tournament when he was the same age. This year would be different, though. This year, Goten would come in third.  
  
Or would he? He didn't know what to expect from Piccolo, which was part of why he was so jittery. The green warrior was obviously his superior in strength, speed, and fighting skills; Goten was certain Piccolo would defeat him. But would that change things between them? They seemed to take things to a new level the night before in the garden, and the young prince had felt sensations he never really knew existed. Just recalling the memory of Piccolo pressed hard against him caused waves of arousal to pulse through his system.  
  
Thinking of going to go visit with the taller warrior, Goten turned to look at a full-length mirror. He hissed in a breath as he took notice of all his bare skin. He also noticed his scouter and yanked it off so that it flopped uselessly onto a nearby chair. "Well, if I go, I -WON'T- wear that."  
  
Walking back and forth across the floor, Goten listened to his logical side argue with his emotional side. Sensibly, he should just stop worrying about Piccolo and go to bed since he would need all the rest he could get to at least try to win against the taller fighter. But that's not what he wanted to do. In an act of absolute mutiny, his heart, body, and soul turned their backs on his mind, desiring nothing more than to track down Piccolo and spend as much time with him as possible, regardless of the tournament and his good senses.  
  
But then he was confused all over again. Should he go? Should he stay? Should he change clothes? Should he go to sleep? What should he do? 'When did I turn into this? I used to be so calm. So level-headed. So rational. Now... Now, I'm overly concerned with what I'm wearing, how I look, what he thinks, what I'm doing. I'm more self-conscious now than I was when I was a teenager. I need to see him, though. I need to talk with him. Need to find out what the hell is supposed to be going on. Between us. And what's to happen tomorrow when we fight.'  
  
"Here are my options," the prince rationalized with himself out loud as he continued to pace. "I could just forget all of this and go to bed and -- and... Fuck." He let out a ragged sigh, determined to argue this out. "Okay, okay. So, let's try this again. On one hand, I could go to bed and try to get as much rest as possible so that I'll be able to have my strongest chances against Piccolo. But on the -other- hand, I could be -with- Piccolo and talk to him or... do whatever else came to mind." Goten paused, a bewildered look evident on his face. "Who am I kidding here? Like I'm going to get any sleep anyway! I'm just going to get into that bed and lie there, staring at the ceiling, and still worrying about tomorrow. There's no contest. That's it. I have to see Piccolo."  
  
Not bothering to concern himself with finding a shirt to cover his bare chest and arms, he went straight for his door, pressing a button to open it. Goten didn't even wait for it to fully slide open before trying to go through it, his haste was so great. Of course, he should've waited because he only ran into a wall of muscles as he got just past the ajar door. Gasping in shock, he hopped back a bit and looked up, his wide brown eyes connecting with a chiseled green face. "Piccolo," he breathed.  
  
The much taller male stood in the hallway outside the opening to the prince's room, his eyebrow ridges raised high. Piccolo and Goten stood opposite each other, waiting for the awkward moment to pass. Briefly letting his obsidian orbs peruse the bare flesh of the younger man, he unconsciously licked his suddenly parched lips. He'd seen the demi-saiyajin naked before, but somehow, seeing him wearing nothing but a pair of loose- fitting sleep pants made his chest tighten with an odd form of... anticipation. His deep but quiet voice rolled across the short space to Goten's ears. "Going somewhere?"  
  
"I was going to, but, um... heh," Goten began, his mind racing. That contemptuous tail of his was perfectly in control of itself, however, waving contentedly behind him. Nothing he could do short of grabbing it would make the appendage wrap around his waist. "D-do you wanna come in?"  
  
With a sharp nod of his head, Piccolo stepped into the dimly lit bedroom. Goten wandered towards the middle of the room, seemingly unsure of his next move. Following him somewhat, the green male stopped near an ornate chair. He looked back up at the prince who was mostly just fidgeting and obviously trying to come up with something to say. The dark-haired male appeared so casual but nervous, and at that moment, Piccolo felt entirely too formal. Discarding his turban and setting it down on the chair, he pulled on the neck of his cape, intending to remove it as well. His eyes caught Goten's, and he asked, "Do you mind...?"  
  
"Oh, um, no. Not at all," Goten blushed, his eyes finding a point of interest in the disrobing man. The turban had been removed already, which left the green man's antennae free to waver slightly. Then went the cape and shoulder pads. Goten's mouth became overly filled with saliva as Piccolo appeared more like a predator without the extra clothing, yet also more appealing. He knew Piccolo was a better warrior than he was, and his mind began to play images of what it would be like to be his prey.  
  
Having freed himself of the cape and turban, Piccolo was much more at ease. He made his way over to the smaller male, but kept a decent distance between them. Smirking a bit, he passed Goten and seated himself in the middle of the prince's large bed, noticing for the first time that the demi- saiyajin had changed his bedding colors from the night before, but not much; the sheets were now indigo satin while the blanket changed to green. He ran his hand over the soft, smooth material, watching as the light of the room played across his skin and the covers. Piccolo tilted his head to the side and raised one eyebrow ridge in challenge.  
  
Goten swallowed hard, but it did nothing to dislodge the lump in his throat. Piccolo was on his bed. -Again-. When he'd been there the previous night, he'd merely been waiting. And that was long before the incident in the garden had transpired. Now... 'Should I join him?' he wondered. 'I mean, of course I should, right? That'd be the brave thing to do, the bold thing. He'd know that I could handle it." An unexpected shred of doubt grew in his mind. "Or what if that's not what he wants? What if it lessens his opinion of me, and he starts thinking that I'm just as much of a whore as my family? No, no. I can't have that. But... Forget it. I can't just stand here and be stupid. He needs to know that I'm -in- this. Because I am.' He walked to the edge of the bed and climbed onto it carefully, moving across the span of it to sit in front of the pillows near the headboard.  
  
Piccolo pushed himself back on the bed, leaning his back against the headboard, so that he was sitting next to Goten. The prince repositioned himself so that he was more comfortable, with his legs stretched out in front of him, crossing at the ankles. "So, um... What brings you by?"  
  
"The same reason why you were about to run out of your room half-dressed," Piccolo stated. He looked over the other male, making sure to do so in an obvious manner, before smiling slightly in approval. "We need to talk."  
  
"Uh... Yeah," the demi-saiyajin agreed. His insides were twisted from the strange new feelings churning inside of him, but he knew he liked it when Piccolo looked at him like that. He had to focus on the topic at hand though. "I... I wanted to know what was going to happen tomorrow."  
  
"We'll fight," replied the green man. "Like we're supposed to. You'll try your hardest because I won't accept anything less. And if you are -not- trying your hardest to hurt me, I'll hurt you more. It isn't going to hurt a little. It's going to hurt a lot."  
  
"Will you try to kill me?" Goten asked in a small voice.  
  
"No," Piccolo answered, because in all honesty he knew he was more than capable of killing the younger male. That did not mean he was willing to, though. His grin was half frightening, half amused as he continued, "But I won't go easy on you either. You told me you want to be a better fighter. I'll teach you that. And it will start tomorrow."  
  
"I understand." The youth paused, his brow drawn down in deep thought. There were other things he wanted to know, more important things than him being beaten. He didn't know how to say what he was thinking, didn't know how to ask, so he simply blurted them out. "Will it change things? Between... you and me."  
  
"What do you mean?" inquired the other male. He wanted to touch the other male. That was what he wanted, right then, right there. Just... a simple touch. He didn't know from where the desire came, but it had been growing incessantly since his arrival, and it was only then that he truly was able to recognize it for what it was. It was as annoying as a craving, and he thought it might be just as determined.  
  
"I mean... Last night, we... kissed. And... did other stuff." Goten sighed heavily as he looked down at the green of his comforter. Piccolo had been right; this was a much better match to his skin color, yet the green warrior had yet to say anything about it. Were things already changing between them? "I... I want to know if after tomorrow we're not going to ever... be that way... again."  
  
"You may not want me to even come near you after tomorrow," Piccolo remarked in a near whisper. He didn't know why, but the thought that Goten wouldn't want him brought a dull ache to his throat, closing it off so that he wasn't able to get sufficient air.  
  
"Yes, I will," replied the young prince quickly. He looked up through his lashes and then back down again. His wayward tail snaked around him, wrapping around his wrists as if it were seeking some form of comfort. He began to stroke his own tail absently, trying to articulate what he was thinking without making it sound like he was a complete moron. "I like... being near you."  
  
Piccolo smirked, before finally giving a full-fledged smile. He gave in to temptation and actually touched the prince, letting his fingertips brush over the soft skin that usually hid behind the scouter's lens. "Good. I like being around you, as well."  
  
Goten perked up at the delicate touch, even more so by the words. Raising the hand that had been stroking his tail, he briefly touched Piccolo's hand as it caressed his face before moving to touch the green skin of Piccolo's visage.  
  
Piccolo's eyes narrowed to mere slits as slightly shaking hands touched his eyebrow ridge before moving up to brush over his antennae. He breathed deeply, taking in cool air as if that alone would calm his suddenly overly warm body. Those strange sensations from before were back, only this time he understood the reason behind it. Even as the newness of it was wearing off, the deliciousness of it was only intensifying. It was all highly distracting. And intoxicating. It was enough to make even the most noble of angels fall, and he was by far not an angel. He was about to remove his hand from Goten's face, about to ask for the prince to remove his hand as well, when Goten spoke.  
  
"What are these for?"  
  
"Absolutely nothing," Piccolo murmured. He was becoming seriously aroused, and he knew that Goten was clueless about it. He forced himself not to pull the other male closer, not to push things further, and was ashamed to realize that it took more effort than he wanted to admit to. "They are as useful as nipples are on a mammalian male."  
  
"Nipples are useless," Goten commented absently as he tilted his head into Piccolo's faltered touch. "They're highly sensitive areas. Great for inducing pain... or... pleasure. Am I hurting you?"  
  
"No. Not quite," Piccolo said, his eyes completely shut. It was nothing close to pain, or at least no kind of pain with which he was familiar. And he was familiar with a great many different kinds of pain. He let his hand fall to Goten's thigh, which also allowed the prince to lean in towards him.  
  
Goten leaned forward, his breath coasting over the loose appendages. He began to investigate them with single-minded intent, trying to learn as much as he could. "Okay. If I'm not hurting you, do you mind if I take a closer look? I'm very curious. I don't see any kind of pores, openings, or, well, anything. I mean..." Goten trailed off as he caught the look in Piccolo's narrowly opened eyes. He leaned back, removing his hand. "Um, Piccolo?"  
  
Piccolo licked his lips slowly, trying not to do anything more than that. He knew that if he -did- do anything, it would be something rash. And he didn't need that. Not yet at least. Again, he shoved that wayward voice to the back of his head, trying to think of this moment and... how not to unravel. He had worked hard his entire life to master his own body. How someone he had barely known six months was able to reduce him to this state was a mystery he desperately needed to solve. "I think I had best leave you for the night, Prince Goten."  
  
"Oh?" Goten asked, disappointment evident in his voice. "So soon?"  
  
"Trust me, it is for the best," Piccolo said, his voice dropping several octaves till it was more of a rumble than an actual voice.  
  
Swiftly placing his hands on the broad green chest, the young prince applied just enough pressure to get his point across. "Please, don't. Just a little longer. Please."  
  
The larger man stilled as he gazed into the deep brown eyes of the demi- saiyajin. This was moving too fast, and yet, not fast enough. But those eyes... Piccolo was failing to find any logical reason to deny the prince his request, especially with the way Goten was looking at him then. No one had ever looked at him that way. Not even... "I shouldn't."  
  
"Stay," Goten almost pleaded.  
  
And that was what did Piccolo in, finally. The beseeching tone in the dark- haired youth's voice extricated his resolve to leave, to run as far away from him as quickly as possible. He allowed the temptation to overtake him, pulling Goten into his lap. The prince adjusted himself slightly, moving his knees to sit on the bed on either side of Piccolo's hips, straddling him. Their faces were scant centimeters apart, eyes burning into each other's. Chests heaving from the sudden closeness, Piccolo rasped, "Ten. More. Minutes."  
  
Sitting as close as he was, Goten was unable to stop himself from leaning forward. His fingers were still rubbing along the length of Piccolo's antennae, but with a tilt of his head he was able to kiss the larger man as well. He had meant only for a light one, a softer one similar to his first crude attempt. But Piccolo's hands pulled him down further, and the kiss deepened, and it was all he could do not to lose himself in the taste of the other warrior.  
  
Piccolo had both his hands entangled in the short spikes of Goten's dark hair, knowing that if he had them anywhere else, he would likely take longer than the ten minutes to which he had agreed. A lot longer. Of course, having that brown tail pulling at his wrist wasn't helping his resolve. He knew where it wanted him, just as he knew that his control wasn't limitless. He broke the kiss, letting his fangs latch on and gently pull at Goten's lower lip before angling Goten's head to the other side to begin another kiss. He moaned softly as Goten scraped his fingernails over the underside of one of his antennae.  
  
Goten broke off the kiss, his eyes more than slightly glazed and his breathing a bit ragged. "I thought you said it didn't hurt."  
  
"It doesn't," Piccolo replied, letting his head fall back against the headboard.  
  
Goten shifted where he sat, unsure and uncertain. His movements allowed him to discover what exactly such touches did to the larger warrior, and he grinned with pride and pleasure. He had found one of Piccolo's weak spots, and it was a discovery he knew he was going to exploit at a later time. Shifting his hands, he pulled the green warrior close again, demanding another kiss.  
  
The Demon Lord was more than happy to oblige the prince. Goten was the one left moaning as he felt the more dominant male taste him, ravish his mouth, devouring him. He quickly lost all track of time and space, his entire world circling on this one kiss. His moaning turned into a whimpering sound as his reason left him. Piccolo used his fangs and tongue to the best of his ability, learning with each passing moment what the younger male liked and what left him weak and pliant.  
  
Of course, the great Demon Lord himself was not remaining unaffected by the situation. He had to force himself to only allow for the kissing, which was taking a great deal of his will and concentration. So much so that he was unprepared for Goten's shifting form to rub against him, which was nearly the larger male's undoing. Releasing one entangled hand, he dropped it to the prince's thigh, forcing the younger male to stop squirming.  
  
At long last, Piccolo tore himself away from Goten, breaking the kiss. Goten moaned slightly, but knew that it was time to call it quits. He could try to prolong it, but he wasn't going to, and Piccolo knew it. The larger fighter rested his forehead against Goten's as they both tried to get their breathing and bodies back under control. Piccolo was hampered by the feeling of his rubbed-raw antennae brushing through Goten's thick, coarse hair, but in a way, it eased his arousal slowly, lulling it back to normal rather than abruptly cutting it off altogether. When he was finally able to trust himself further, the green warrior raised his head and gently kissed the prince on the forehead. "Good night, Prince Goten."  
  
"Good night," came the breathy response. He climbed off of the larger male, allowing him to leave. The prince watched Piccolo swiftly exit his bedroom then fell back against his pillows. His eyes caught sight of something unfamiliar sitting in the chair near the door, and he realized the green male had left behind his cape and turban. A small smile played on his lips. 'I'll just hang onto those until Piccolo asks for them. -If- he asks for them.'  
  
The demi-saiyajin turned over onto his stomach in his bed and buried his face in the pillows. They smelled like Piccolo. Just from that, he knew then that he'd sleep incredibly well that night. And then there'd be tomorrow. Tomorrow, he'd fight Piccolo. Earlier, that single thought had caused him much grief, but at that moment, he felt no such apprehension. Win or lose, he would still be with Piccolo.  
  
And when it came right down to it, didn't that mean that Goten really won? 


	13. Becoming

Disclaimer: I, Summer Starr, do not own DBZ. My co-authoress doesn't either. We admit this. Don't sue us.  
  
Warnings: Relationships. Yaoi. Violence. More fluff, angst, pain, and torturous fun than you can shake a stick at.  
  
Kingdom Come  
  
~Chapter 13  
  
The daylight filtered down onto the arena tiles through gossamer clouds. The crowd was in unusually high spirits, betting on the outcome of the first match. As it was the only match of the day, bets were quickly becoming heated. For the first time in a very long time, there was actual speculation that Prince Goten might not make it to the final round. It was just mere speculation, though. Most of the odds were in his favor.  
  
Krillin sat in the Ginyu box already, waiting for the match to start. He was looking at the sky, noticing that it actually could have clouds in it. He couldn't remember it raining since he had arrived in this strange reality, though he knew it had to have rained. There was still vegetation after all. He couldn't remember seeing a moon, either, for that matter. The curfew was pretty early, and he knew that everyone in the palace was IN the palace by curfew, even the princes. It made him wonder if there was a moon here, or if there wasn't. If there was, well, it would explain the curfew. Didn't want the princes, or the king for that matter, transforming and demolishing the place.  
  
Krillin sighed as he looked back down to the arena. He had arrived early to his seat, as he didn't have much else to do, watching as the rest of the arena filled up with its overly enthusiastic crowd. He could tell that 18 was close to him, watching him. She -really- gave him the creeps. He noticed Yamcha coming his way, a strange expression on the desert bandit's face. "Hey, Yamcha! What's up?"  
  
"Nothing much," Yamcha answered as he took his seat next to Krillin. "I just asked Piccolo if he could make me a bag. To go along with some extra clothes."  
  
"What'd he say?" Krillin asked. He didn't know Piccolo could accessorize as well.  
  
"He said, and I quote, 'I'm not a damn department store, Yamcha'," the scarred warrior grimaced. He was in his usual green gi, with orange sash. He had three outfits, and took really good care of them so that he didn't bug Piccolo too often. The Namek still intimidated him. "So... that means I'm going to be making a trip to try and 'find' an 'un-owned' bag."  
  
"Uh-huh," Krillin smiled. He shook his head at his companion before returning his gaze to the surrounding people. "They're making a lot of wagers today."  
  
"Yeah," Yamcha replied. "So... how long do you think Goten's gonna last?"  
  
"I don't think it's going to take the entire time, but I think Piccolo's going to drag it out a bit. He's been doing that with most of his opponents, allowing them to have a little bit of time in the ring. I think he feels sorry for them," Krillin said as he crossed his arms. "Since it's Goten... I imagine it won't be much of a display of power. It oughta be... nicer."  
  
"What makes you say that, Krillin?" queried the scarred human, an eyebrow raised.  
  
Smirking, the smaller man leaned in to speak softly. "I don't know if you've noticed, but Piccolo has been spending a little time with Goten."  
  
"Yeah, I noticed," remarked Yamcha, "but I guess I've been kinda distracted. Are they friends now or something?"  
  
"Or something," Krillin chuckled. Dropping his voice to the barest of whispers, he continued, "I think, uh... heh. I think Piccolo's a little, um... I think he likes him. Goten, I mean."  
  
"Oh, I suspected as much. They seemed like they were headed for 'Central Perk'."  
  
"No, no," the shorter man redirected. "-More- than friends. -Much- more."  
  
"Get out!" Yamcha exclaimed. His face was all astonishment. Lowering his voice back down, he murmured, "I thought friends, maybe, but... Piccolo likes guys? Like... likes-likes guys? When did -this- happen?"  
  
Krillin looked at his friend like he'd suddenly turned into a girl. Keeping his voice quiet, he asked, "He's always liked other guys. Are you forgetting his thing with Gohan? What are you, -new-?"  
  
"No, I just... Oh. -Oh-. Whoa." The scarred warrior sat back in his chair, apparently floored. "Wait, wait. Are you sure? I mean, because that's pretty wild."  
  
"I dunno for dead certain, man," snickered the bald male. "But I'm kinda thinking that's the case, you know?"  
  
"Wait, I don't get it," the taller man paused. "How -do- you know? I mean, what, are you, like, following them or something?"  
  
"No, no, no. Sheesh," Krillin corrected. "I'm just smart and observant. Just pay attention to the match. You'll see what I mean."  
  
"Totally," smirked Yamcha, nodding. "This oughta be a real good time."  
  
Tilting his head to the side, Krillin observed the royal family filing into their box. "Hey, Yamcha. You notice that it's always Bulma he's got with him? Like, I know he's married to Chichi, but she's never around."  
  
"Yeah, but you can hear her screaming in the morning," Yamcha pointed out sadly. "You'd think he'd stop going to go visit her. But, like, he doesn't care that she's crazy."  
  
"I'd get a divorce if -my- wife ever went nutzo like that," Krillin commented. At that moment, a loud crash signaled that there were only a few minutes before the first -- and only -- match of the day.  
  
Up in the royal box, Lord Kakarrot smirked at his elder son's arrival. "Well, well," he said. "I see you've decided to show up on time today. Did you get some sort of alarm as I suggested?"  
  
"No," replied Gohan as he took his seat next to his father. "But I wouldn't miss this fight for the world."  
  
The emperor chuckled smugly. "And why is that, pray tell? Any reason in particular?"  
  
"For one, I'm going to be fighting against one of them in the final match of the tournament tomorrow," the demi-saiyajin stated. "... Also, I so enjoy watching our Demon Lord Piccolo fight. He should put up an excellent fight against Goten, should he not?"  
  
His father raised an eyebrow. "He may even win. I think you may actually prefer that."  
  
"Well, fighting Goten year after year has gotten a little monotonous, although I do enjoy winning repeatedly." Gohan peered down to the arena floor and over to the small waiting area building. Despite knowing the green man was down there, he couldn't see him at all. "I wonder if Goten's nervous or excited to be fighting our only real competition in years aside from each other."  
  
"I imagine he's probably nervous," surmised Lord Kakarrot. "They've never fought before."  
  
"Maybe," Gohan nodded.  
  
The royal saiyajin studied his elder son for a moment. There was an enthusiasm in the other's countenance that he hadn't seen before, a spark in his eyes. Thinking back some, he recalled how Gohan had eyed the green visitor at the emperor's welcoming home party, though he'd been unable to act upon it as the other man had been seemingly content speaking with Prince Goten. Of course, shortly after that, Lord Kakarrot had proceeded to get roaring drunk and remembered nothing afterwards, so if something else happened... Well, he didn't remember. Nevertheless, Gohan had said nothing regarding his preference for the tall warrior. Deciding to make an attempt at casually bringing up the subject, he turned to his beloved mistress. "My dear," he addressed, "who do you favor in this match today?"  
  
Bulma smiled politely and met his gaze. "My lord, you know that I do not ever favor anyone either way in the tournament. It is imprudent to show an overt preference for any contestant. I'm afraid I do not have an opinion on the matter."  
  
"As wise as you are beautiful," the royal smiled. She pleased him with her answer. It would make things easier in breaching the next line of questioning. "But, tell me. What do you think of the Demon Lord Piccolo?"  
  
"He is tall, green, and a seemingly competent fighter," she offered.  
  
Continuing to grin broadly, he inquired, "And what of his appearance? Is he frightening? Handsome?"  
  
The blue-haired lady paused for a moment as if carefully considering her response. She could feel Zarbon tensing up behind her. This had to be a trick question, so she had to take extreme precaution in answering. After a short bit, she finally responded, "While I do not personally find him neither hideous nor attractive, I could certainly see why someone else might find an exotic being such as the Demon Lord either way."  
  
"Are you blind?" Gohan interjected, leaning out from his seat to catch the female's eyes. "He's gorgeous!"  
  
While Bulma sat unmoving and unresponsive, Lord Kakarrot let out a hearty laugh. "Ha! I knew it! I knew you were after that one. Well, he's worthy enough of your admiration. He's made it this far into the tournament. He has strength and character." Smirking, he added, "You've done far worse."  
  
"Hmmph," skulked the prince. "That may be true... But I intend to become... very well acquainted with him once this tournament is over. I'm sure once he experiences my prowess in the ring, he'll be open to more... experiences."  
  
"Such a diplomat," his father remarked sarcastically. "You don't have my fine taste in women. With you, it's always equal opportunity, which is rather repulsive given some of your partners." The tall saiyajin frowned a bit then sighed. Eyeing the waiting area, he considered the things he'd just said and then applied them to his other son. Frustrated, he found he couldn't, unless it was to note the exact opposite. Speaking his mind aloud, he muttered, "Goten, however, doesn't like women, doesn't like men. It vexes me greatly. If only he'd find interest in -someone-. The boy's not normal."  
  
"Do not fret, milord," comforted Bulma. She knew that the emperor needed to hear reassurance, regardless of how little she actually felt he deserved it. Plus, staying in his good graces was always less painful in the end. Bulma only did what she needed to do to survive. And if that meant occasionally saying things she didn't mean or acting in ways she didn't feel, then she'd do it. In this case, however, she knew that her words held some semblance of truth, even if the men sitting beside her were not aware of it. She doubted either of them would ever be attentive enough to figure out that Goten had already found someone in whom to be interested. "He is your son. He will find someone to treat as you treat me. I'm certain of it."  
  
Taking her hand and squeezing it lightly, Lord Kakarrot nodded. Then, as the final gong sounded, he turned his attention to the ring.  
  
Piccolo waited just outside of eyesight, waiting to walk out into the light of the late-morning sun. He turned his head as he felt Goten approach. "Greetings, Prince Goten."  
  
"Hello, Demon Lord Piccolo," Goten greeted just as formally, his tail threatening to unwind to curl behind him. But by sheer force of will, he ordered it back into place. He looked out the entryway to look at the high platform that was the arena floor. He took in a deep breath, ignoring whatever the announcer was telling the crowd. "I remember what you said, you know."  
  
"Oh?" Piccolo asked, wondering exactly what the prince was talking about. He had said a lot of things.  
  
"That you'd teach me how to detect chi without the aid of the scouter," Goten said as he looked at the taller warrior. "You said that that would be the first lesson."  
  
"And so it will be. Your scouter will be useless against me in there, anyway," Piccolo replied, a slight smirk on his face. "You might as well leave it behind."  
  
"All right. But I want you to promise me that you meant what you said last night. That what happens here today doesn't change anything between us," Goten said, beginning to walk forwards, towards the entryway. It was time.  
  
Piccolo gave him a small smile and nodded his head as he walked forward as well. He stepped into the light of the morning's glare along side the shorter prince. Together, they walked towards the tiled floor. Just before they both jumped onto the platform, Goten tore off his scouter and tossed it behind him. It landed a few feet away with a soft bouncing thud.  
  
There was a noticeable hush as the crowd witnessed the action. No one had ever actually gone without their scouter in a tournament fight before. How was one to gauge their opponent if they didn't have any proper readings?  
  
Their feet clicked onto the tiles at the same time. Their pace was steady, yet evenly matched, as they walked forwards. When they were in the middle of the ring, they turned to each other and bowed. Then they turned to the royal box to bow, to show their respect to the ruler.  
  
Lord Kakarrot always loved this part, as both contestants were equally vulnerable. The cue was given for them to get into their positions. Goten turned to the side, taking on a defensive stance against Piccolo. He watched with narrowed eyes as Piccolo took up his own fighting stance, something that the large warrior hadn't done with any of the other contests.  
  
A breeze blew into the arena, causing Piccolo's cape to flap with its caress. And then the bell sounded. The fight was on!  
  
Demon Lord Piccolo charged forward first, moving so blindingly fast that no one other than the two humans who came with him could actually see him. He struck Prince Goten with his closed fist in a backwards slap, hard. Hard enough to send the youngest of the royal heirs careening to the edge of the white tiled surface.  
  
Catching himself just in time, Goten managed to use his momentum and curve upward. He hadn't really known what to do for this fight, but now that it was on and Piccolo was staying true to his word that he was going to have an honest fight, it gave the prince hope that everything else that the green warrior said was true as well. Dark brown eyes narrowed as the image of Piccolo standing on the arena floor changed faster than the prince could blink. His opponent was no longer below him.  
  
Acting on pure instinct, Goten ducked down, barely missing the flat strike that would have hit the back of his head. He knew without asking that it would have been enough to knock him unconscious. Using his fear to push him forward, Goten shot a blast of energy at his opponent. He had to think of Piccolo as his opponent, knowing that if he thought of him as Piccolo, he would hold back, trying not to damage the other male. Trying not to damage their growing relationship.  
  
Piccolo easily dodged the sloppy attack. Sloppy by his standards. "You're going to have to concentrate if you ever hope to defeat me."  
  
"Huh?" Goten asked, stunned. That moment of confusion allowed Piccolo to send the prince hurtling to the ground at bone-crushing speeds. Instead of a hard impact, though, Goten merely touched the tiles before rebounding back into the air, using his chi as a sort of spring. As soon as he was able, as soon as he was within proper distance so that anything he did wouldn't over balance him or leave him vulnerable to another attack, he began to throw as many fast and hard punches as he could.  
  
"Now, -that's- more like it!" Piccolo smirked. "Come on, Goten. Show me what you've got."  
  
Goten growled low as he realized that Piccolo was easily blocking or dodging each and every single attack. Thinking to throw his opponent off, he began to use his legs to kick and knee, and even used his tail, though it was more as bait than as an actual weapon. He yelped loudly as Piccolo quickly grabbed said tail and scraped his nails down its length, causing more pleasure than pain. Goten's eyes blazed as his cheeks flushed, and he glared at his opponent. With a burst of speed, Goten picked up his attack to levels that had been unimaginable to him a year ago. But that was before he had taken a few extra beatings. Piccolo dodged all but one blow, which had him flying backwards a bit.  
  
"Slowing down?" the prince chided. He floated a few feet just out of reaching distance from the other man. He was breathing hard, and his cheeks were still flushed, but it wasn't due to exertion. Not yet, at least. "Don't get soft on me now."  
  
"You wanna get rougher?" the taller fighter queried with a sardonic grin. He easily tossed his weighted turban and cape to the ground, allowing it to hit the tiles of the arena floor with a loud crashing sound. Smirking, he fell back into his fighting stance from before, knowing that he had to take this serious.  
  
"Harder too," returned the demi-saiyajin.  
  
"Good," Piccolo said, licking his lips lightly before charging the younger male.  
  
Goten tried to get out of the way, but found himself running -into- Piccolo rather than away. Spinning around while throwing his elbow out as a striking attack, he was caught by Piccolo's hand skimming his arm and grabbing his wrist to twist it in an almost dance-like twirling movement. Goten retorted by trying to knee his opponent, but that allowed Piccolo to dip him backwards instead.  
  
As before, using only his instincts, Goten managed to get out of the bizarre position. He didn't make it far before Piccolo had him by the tail. Again. Goten hissed as he felt the green warrior's nails scrape over his prehensile tail. He glared murder at the larger male, and then smirked. On his next attack, he moved as if to strike, but instead twisted through the air so that he was doing a handstand on Piccolo's shoulders. He did a handstand-like push-up, so that he was able to grab at least one of the stronger fighter's antennae's in his mouth. He kept his teeth apart, but used his tongue to curl around the appendage as he flipped behind the better fighter.  
  
Piccolo remarked in a voice that bespoke of how very effective that strategy truly was, "If I'd known this was going to get so dirty, I would've worn less to begin with."  
  
"I would've forfeited," Goten answered. He was definitely breathing harder, and that wasn't the only thing hard. But as they were high in the sky in aerial combat, the only one who would know would be Piccolo. "Sensory overload."  
  
"I'll show you 'overload'," Piccolo smirked dangerously. He wasn't sure how their fight had turned to this strange form of teasing, but he allowed it. It was fun, at any rate. He charged forward, wanting to prolong the fight, yet at the same time knowing that he had a personal time limit on it.  
  
"You know," Goten said as he dodged a punch and threw a kick that never landed, "I'm kind of getting turned on by this."  
  
"Me too," replied Piccolo, his shin connecting with the prince's torso.  
  
"Too bad I'll be unconscious at the end of this," Goten gasped as he flew backwards, trying to regain some of his breath. And trying to keep his breakfast from revisiting. Blood was trickling down his chin, as well as a few other substances. Swallowing, he charged forward again. He was getting better at gauging how strong some of Piccolo's attacks were, even without the scouter. Perhaps he truly was learning something.  
  
"I don't know," the green warrior began. He smirked as he caught the prince's closed fist. If he had let it connect, it would have hit him square between the eyes. Lowering his gaze a bit, taking on the visage of something supremely predatorily, he said, "You look good unconscious."  
  
"But only if you do it to me, right?" Goten grinned. He felt like shit, but at the same time he felt good. He felt alive. And he felt really aroused.  
  
"Absolutely."  
  
Down in the royal box, Gohan strained to see what was going on in the sky above him. Ever since the match had taken to the air, it had become increasingly difficult to see what was going on. Plus, the position of the sun wasn't helping matters, as it was nearly directly overhead, causing the spectators to shield their eyes. He doubted anyone in the arena could truly see the fight they could all hear carrying on overhead. 'Dammit,' he cursed inwardly. 'I wish they'd fly lower. I can't really see what they're doing! Damn sun.'  
  
Piccolo's head suddenly snapped back from Goten's uppercut to his chin, his purple blood arcing outward with the motion. Flying back a bit, he wiped at the injury. Goten had finally managed to draw blood. It was time to end this little game. "That was pretty good."  
  
"Glad you liked it," the demi-saiyajin grinned. He watched as Piccolo's eyes narrowed. He braced himself for what he knew was to come, and he was glad that Piccolo wasn't going to hold back any longer. The game was over.  
  
"I can't wait to see what else you can do," Piccolo smirked. And then he attacked. Goten managed to dodge some of the blows that rained down on him, but not all of them. And not the one that finally and completely stole the light from his vision. Piccolo slammed his fist hard into the young prince's body, feeling the flesh give way before the body accepted the power and momentum to carry itself to the unforgiving ground below.  
  
Even with unconsciousness trying to take him away from the pain lancing through his body, Goten refused to give up. He and pain were old friends, and he wasn't afraid of it. He took the sensation, wrapped it around him, and used it to fuel his need to fight. It had worked in the past. With a war cry the likes of which no one in the arena had heard before, Goten used all of his energy for one last strike at where he -thought- his opponent was.  
  
Piccolo's eyes widened in silent appraisal of the sure-kill that was racing towards him. Even though it was survivable, and he had seen far more impressive displays of brute power and energy, this display wasn't anything at which to laugh. One reason was it was obviously aimed right at him, moving at an incredible speed. Piccolo gathered enough energy to guard himself and deflect the blast, showing to all the scouters below that he could manipulate his chi more than to simply fly. His energy sphere was nowhere near as large as Goten's was, but it did the job that was required of it. The large green warrior looked down at the smaller form of the prince as Goten's unconscious body fell towards the ground, encouraged by the boost he had from discharging his last attack.  
  
The spectators watched in astonished awe as a body came hurtling down to the arena floor so fast that the majority of them couldn't tell who it was. The previous energy shots had made the sunlight behind them dim in comparison, and no one could really tell whose shot was whose. Some could, though. Goten's body was moving at such speeds, and with such force, that had he landed, he could have caused considerable damage to the tiles on the floor, or more likely, caused a crater where the platform rested. Instead, though, the Demon Lord caught him just before he impacted. But even though it might have seemed gentle at first, Piccolo merely took Goten's limp form to the edge of the arena floor, and dropped him over the side.  
  
The match ended.  
  
The crowd was stunned speechless for all of two heartbeats. And then they went absolutely insane! No one had ever beaten Prince Goten other than Prince Gohan! And Goten was beaten in less than the allotted amount of time, too. In some areas, there was almost rioting due to the previous betting that had been going on. Money was made, and a lot of it lost. In the Ginyu box, only Yamcha and Krillin sat. The surviving Ginyu members were either in the infirmary, still recovering, or in their rooms, still recovering. None had made it to witness how right Jeice had been to bring them there.  
  
Krillin grinned and faced his companion. "Told you so."  
  
Laughing, Yamcha turned to Krillin. "Thirty minutes. You were right."  
  
"I totally told you, dude."  
  
"Heh. Piccolo always did have fighting stamina," the scarred warrior continued. "I wonder if he's got the same stamina in--"  
  
"No!" Krillin yelled. "Stop that right now! Don't you dare finish that sentence. I don't wanna hear it. Seriously? Uh-uh. I may not have a problem with it, but that doesn't mean I wanna hear about it. Okay?"  
  
Yamcha doubled over, still laughing. "Okay, man. Okay. Besides," he went on, "I'm not interested."  
  
"Oh, that's right," the bald human grinned smugly. "You're more partial to... well, I think I'll just stop right there." Seeing Yamcha's face suddenly go sheet-white, Krillin knew that his friend had realized he knew about the short saiyajin. "Let's get out of here."  
  
As the two humans departed the Ginyu box, just above them the royal family was applauding the match. Gohan stood, clapping loudly. Not only did it have an excellent ending, but now, it was his turn to get into the ring with the mysterious Piccolo. Still seated beside him was Lord Kakarrot, who only applauded lightly in light appreciation for an entertaining match. The green man was strong; that was clear. Smirking, he leaned toward his elder son and asked, "Scared?"  
  
"No," replied Gohan. "-Excited-. I'm finally getting my chance to get him in the ring."  
  
"That's where it all starts for you," commented his father. "Hopefully, you won't end up like your brother down there, unconscious and being carried out on a stretcher."  
  
"Oh, no," the prince grinned. "I won't be going out like that. He's good, but no one's defeated me since I was a little boy. He won't win."  
  
Lord Kakarrot stood, allowing his mistress to hold onto his arm. Turning to leave, he looked back at his son. "We shall see tomorrow, Gohan."  
  
***  
  
The heavily shrouded man sat some short distance away from the two regal boxes. He'd watched the match. He'd seen Piccolo's power. And he knew it was only a mere glimpse. There was more. Much more.  
  
However, that was not all that the thin man had been watching. He'd seen before that two humans accompanied the green warrior. And he'd watched them today. The scarred one seemed preoccupied, as if his mind had far more on it than simply Piccolo's tournament match, despite its importance. But the short, bald one... There was a certain carefree air about him. Perhaps he'd be the best choice.  
  
Gazing down at the retreating form of the green man, his shoulders sagged slightly. 'Oh, Kami,' he thought. 'I hope I get through this. Please give me the strength.' Sighing, his eyes watched the two humans exit the Ginyu box, and he knew. It would have to be the smaller human.  
  
He just had to get the timing right.  
  
***  
  
Yamcha's arrival was only noticed by the mechanical door, which allowed him entrance before closing quietly behind him. He was in his usual gi, but he carried a small bag over one shoulder. He looked around the dim room for a place to put his parcel, but his eyes immediately spotted Vegeta and would not move away.  
  
Setting the bag on the floor, Yamcha moved quietly over to the figure lying among the twisted sheets. Whispering words of comfort, though he was rather sure that Vegeta didn't hear any of it, Yamcha removed the sheet. The human winced in sympathetic pain as he saw how twisted and misshapen Vegeta's body was. Shaking his head, Yamcha set about his task.  
  
He could see quite plainly that Vegeta was bare. And in pain. The shorter male was almost in a deformed fetal position. Yamcha thought a moment before grabbing one of the bottles of oil from his bag. Instead of going about what he had been planning since last night, he instead simply curled himself, fully clothed as he was, against Vegeta's back. He began to rub his arms, murmuring soothing sounds, trying to get the shorter warrior to relax some. Under almost any other circumstance, this situation might have been a bit more erotic. But as Vegeta was unconscious and in severe pain, Yamcha was far from turned on. Instead, he was protective and almost possessive.  
  
Soon, the human forgot all about time, intent on the task at hand. Agonizingly slowly, he managed to get Vegeta to relax enough to lay on his stomach. With a shaky sigh, Yamcha removed himself from his position at the saiyajin's back. He then poured the oily substance from one of the bottles into his hand, and before he moved over to begin rubbing Vegeta's back. He added heat by using chi, trying to loosen the tight muscles that had to be bringing the shorter male pain.  
  
He smiled softly, luxuriating in the feel of Vegeta's skin underneath his hand, the knowledge that he was touching the ex-prince as he had never really thought he'd ever be able to. Granted, there was that one time that Vegeta blackmailed him into sex, but he hadn't been permitted to touch the other male as he wanted to. To run his hands over every available inch of flesh available to him, like he was at present. Yamcha looked around the room, suddenly a bit self-conscious. He was warm. To distract his wayward thoughts, he began to sing the one lullaby that Vegeta had taught him, from start to finish, before he began the song again. He was glad that Vegeta had managed to finish teaching him the song all in one day. He doubted he would have had the chance to learn it since then.  
  
The prince had been dreaming. Before they were more like distant nightmares, too misty to actually discern the horrors therein, but he knew they had been nightmares. And in his dreams, he was running away from them. But slowly, they were changing. He felt... good. Warm. Warmer than he could remember feeling. And the dreams were no longer holding demons barely in check. Now, they seemed to be hiding something else, something that he wanted. Instead of running away, he was running towards.  
  
Yamcha nearly laughed as he noticed Vegeta was drooling on his pillow. He was done with most of the backside of the saiyajin with the exception of the tail. He had never had to deal with a tail on anyone other than Puar, and he hadn't actually given her any massages. With a shrug, he began to investigate the furred appendage, trying to figure out the best way to work with it. It was soft to the touch, and though it usually displayed the mental state of mind of the ex-prince, it now was languid in its action. Yamcha guessed that it was either too hurt to do much moving, or that it was showing Vegeta's state of unconsciousness.  
  
Vegeta began to purr as Yamcha's fingers began attempting to massage it. From base to tip, Yamcha stroked. When he started at the base again, he noticed something that had escaped him before. On the underside of the saiyajin's tail, there was a strip of furless, velvet soft skin. The human ran his sensitive fingertips over the area but was momentarily stilled by Vegeta's soft whimpers. Thinking it was painful for the prince, Yamcha stopped.  
  
With a furrowed brow of concern, Yamcha proceeded to shift Vegeta onto his back. He blushed lightly as he came to the discovery that he had not been hurting the shorter male at any time. Vegeta had liked what he had been doing. With a soft laugh, Yamcha continued the massage, singing softly as he did so. He thought to also help the other male with his obvious arousal, but he assumed that would be overstepping himself.  
  
It was a temptation, though. To touch the other male in so intimate a manner while he slept, and while Vegeta wouldn't know, was a delicious thought. Even as he thought of simply touching, his mind also informed him that he had yet to finish going down on the prince. Yamcha raised an eyebrow at how perverse his thoughts were when he didn't reign them back, yet at the same time he had to admit that he wanted to know exactly what the shorter warrior tasted like. Breathing deeply, though, he knew that he'd not go through with it. Vegeta wasn't even awake! It would be like molestation, or worse: rape. So, Yamcha simply kept his eyes on it, noticing that with each passing moment it continued to grow. By the time he finished, Vegeta was relaxed in all but one area. Yamcha could sympathize, as his mind continued to play out scenes of what it would be like to touch, to taste, to take.  
  
Yamcha sat back, wanting to simply look at the sleeping figure, but Vegeta denied him the right by rolling back onto his stomach, his tail flicking before curling around him. The short prince sighed as he clutched his solitary pillow close to him. The human grinned as he thought of how smug the other male seemed, though it was only in sleep.  
  
Carelessly, Yamcha began to play with the still tail, petting and stroking it until finally finding that strip of velvet at its base. Running his fingers over the small area, he closed his eyes to try and memorize the texture. Vegeta's soft moan had dark eyes snapping open again. Dark eyes widened in surprise as Yamcha saw Vegeta's slow movements moving with the brush of fingers over furless skin.  
  
Vegeta felt like he was surrounded by fog, but the fog was warm and cozy, and made him feel good. It was as if the world around him was a giant bowl of cream, and he was there to lap it up. Or rather, he was the cream, and someone else was there, waiting to lap him up. And it wasn't a bad thing, being devoured like that. In fact, it was a good thing. A very good thing.  
  
"Like that, huh?" Yamcha said softly, not really expecting an answer.  
  
Vegeta turned his face towards the sound of Yamcha's voice, allowing the human to see a light blush that was striped across Vegeta's nose and cheeks. Lips were parted, and breathing was irregular as Vegeta continued to move over the sheets, trying in vain to appease the nagging need while keeping the slow pace. He lifted his tail, allowing for a more intimate touch, purring when the invitation was accepted.  
  
Yamcha was actually able to see the strip of skin he had been touching. He peered at it closely, noticing two small pores that were leaking a clear substance. Yamcha tried to touch the beads of shining moisture, but when he pulled his fingers back, they remained dry. Curious, Yamcha rubbed his fingertips together, trying to figure out if maybe he just couldn't see it. But his fingers were dry. He leaned in closer.  
  
Vegeta gasped as he felt hot breath breathing on one of the most tender places on his body. His body wasn't his to control, though, as it remained too heavy and needful to the world around him, and he was helpless to whatever was going to happen next. He just hoped it was going to happen soon. He wasn't even able to open his eyes, too caught up in his dreaming to fight it off. He simply continued to roll his hips forward.  
  
With a bit of timing and luck, Yamcha was able to actually get close enough to the strip of velvety skin to lick it. He had expected some kind of reaction. He did not expect the reaction he got.  
  
Vegeta's legs parted, allowing his lover whatever he wanted, should he wish to claim it. At the same time, he clutched at the sheets and pillow, ripping them, even as he bit down hard enough on his lower lip to draw blood. Vegeta's orgasm hit him harder than Recoom ever could have, more violently, sapping what little strength the fighter had with one full body spasm. He fell back to the bed with a soft, choked sob as his body continued to hum with the electricity of it.  
  
"Well," Yamcha whispered. "That was interesting."  
  
The human continued to watch, making sure that Vegeta had done no damage to himself, before exiting. He had to find some clean sheets and perhaps something a bit heavier than what Vegeta had for a blanket. It took him a few minutes, but he did eventually find the Palace cleaning room. He pulled someone aside, a young human woman with large blue eyes and short brown hair, and asked for some sheets. Giggling and flirting, she handed them over easily. She also offered to help get them dirty. "Anyone who kills one of those bastard Ginyu members is A-okay in my book." Yamcha laughed nervously, declined her offer, and then ran for his life back to Vegeta's room.  
  
Vegeta managed to pry one eye open -- how he didn't know -- and look around. He was lying on the floor, a blanket wrapped around him, and Yamcha was there. That in itself was nice. But Yamcha was singing like he meant it, and making their bed. Vegeta sighed as he felt more content than he had ever been in his life. It was a lovely dream. It really was.  
  
***  
  
Glacial blue eyes closed in pleasure as 17 held Trunks close. They had spent the day traveling the tunnels of the Palace, playing 'catch' in the darkness of the forbidden corridors. The raven-haired male had won, but he had a suspicion that Trunks simply allowed him to do so. They were in his room, both in nothing more than pants, swaying gently to the sounds emitted from the sound box that rested under his bed. To 17, this was as close to heaven as he had any right to be.  
  
The song to which they were dancing was nearly at its end. Trunks smiled as he inhaled deeply of 17's scent. They had been dancing like this for a few songs, and it was incredible. Trunks sighed as he let his hands remain where they were, dipped into the back waistband of 17's pants to press against the small of his back. 17 had one hand pressed right above an up- curled lavender tail, while the other was pressed between Trunks' shoulder blades, pressing the younger male closer.  
  
"17?" Trunks asked, though his voice was muffled through sleepiness and by being pressed up against the android's neck.  
  
"Yes?" 17 whispered, savoring the precious moment as much as he could.  
  
"Where'd you get the music from?"  
  
"Your mother fixed an old player for me, as a sort of gift," 17 replied quietly.  
  
He was never gladder that Mistress Bulma had forgiven him than he was at that moment.  
  
The dark haired android opened his eyes to mere slits as he felt Trunks nuzzle his neck. The younger male was getting impatient, yet remained unvocal as to what he wanted. Nevertheless, 17 had an idea. And he didn't know how to accommodate what Trunks was asking of him, from him.  
  
Allowing himself to drift off into his memories, he recalled the day that Trunks was born. He had been the first to hold the screaming, squiggling, mottled form in his arms. For him, it wasn't that long ago, a mere twenty or so years. He had been with Lord Kakarrot's force long before the day.  
  
In fact, he and his cybernetic siblings had been with Lord Kakarrot before the conqueror was ever a ruler. Hard to imagine, but at one time, Lord Kakarrot was nothing more than an invading force whom the Earth tried to fight off. They lost; but more than that, they knew they were going to lose. They figured it out when the last ruler, and kami, of the planet was killed. That was before 17's memory, though.  
  
The synthetic male remembered coming online along side his sister. Together, and with Dr. Gero's permission, they awoke 16. The three of them were the last chance that the Terran resistance had against the monster known as Kakarrot. It was just a shame that he and his sister thought it would be more fun and entertaining to fight -beside- the destroyer rather than against him. As was his nature, 16 merely followed them.  
  
The earth forces didn't last long after.  
  
Even though they were on the same side, 17 and 18 would still try to challenge Lord Kakarrot, almost killing him on several occasions. They were young, and they wanted to have fun, and sometimes they thought that their leader was only there to bully them into doing whatever he wanted to do. So they rebelled. Incidentally, 16 was the peaceful one that never rebelled, and never fought unless he had to. But the slightly older male was too stubborn to die, managing to persevere even though he had very little chance. And then, one day, they discovered that Lord Kakarrot was no longer able to be beaten. That had been a truly frightening discovery, yet at the same time it was also curiously entertaining in an ironic sort of way.  
  
He remembered when Lady Chichi had been captured, as she was not only a high-ranking female, but the highest ranking female around. She was a princess. And a warrior. And very lovely at the time. And Lord Kakarrot thought that she would make the best breeding partner of his many women available. After, of course, he broke her. He did too well of a job breaking her, though, and she became quite mad. Even so, she had delivered him his first heir: Prince Gohan.  
  
It didn't matter. Lord Kakarrot, Ruler of Earth, found someone else among the many women at his disposal. Someone far more lovely. Someone far more resilient. Someone who fought him at every turn. Someone with whom he fell in love. Mistress Bulma. The ruthless warrior that all had come to know and fear had found the one person who made him complete. Or at least, he had found the one person who turned him into a complete idiot.  
  
When 17 had found out about Bulma, he had been indifferent. He hadn't known her. He had never met her. But she had known of him. And when they first met, she had spat in his face. He had smirked at her, knowing that would just infuriate her more. It did. She hated him before they had ever met, as he was one of Lord Kakarrot's minions, one of the reason's her world fell. Him and his siblings.  
  
But that was then. Before Trunks.  
  
The android remembered it had been rather late at night, though still before midnight. Mistress Bulma had gone into labor, and Lord Kakarrot, recently crowned ruler of the Trans-Galactic Empire through test of arms, had demanded to attend the birthing. Prenatal tests had indicated that the child she bore was not his, that the infant was genetically that of Vegeta, but the tall saiyajin wanted to be there and draw another blood sample himself to determine if it was true. Because it was his duty, 17 stood behind his ruler in the delivery room. His sister had been excused from the task, and his tranquil brother... Well, he had been dead by that time. Zarbon had been there as well, a mere shadow in the corner. The palace was alive with Bulma's screams of pain, her loudly vulgar curses that did more than defame the emperor who watched over her, and her cries that demanded someone, anyone, kill her and end her miserable life. No one other than the nursemaid touched her. In the distance, the echoing screams and cries and insane laughter of Lady Chichi could be heard as well, an eerie counter to the scene.  
  
And then the babe was pulled from its mother's body. One look, and it was obvious that the child was indeed Vegeta's. Lord Kakarrot left immediately, knowing beyond any doubt that he had sired nothing with his precious mistress. Zarbon went immediately to tend to the sweaty, tired human woman. The nursemaid, knowing she still had work to do, quickly handed the bathed and wrapped infant over to 17.  
  
Staring down into squinting, angry, tired blue eyes, 17 found himself transfixed. Strangely enough, Trunks was born with pale blond hair and tail. But though he had 18's coloration, there was nothing of his sister to be seen in the child. The two of them stared at each other, trying to figure the other out. Trying to figure out what they were to each other. Strange as it was, 17 felt as if he was somehow connected to the tiny life in his arms, as if it was there simply for him. Or he was there simply for it.  
  
The nursemaid startled 17 by suddenly, and very loudly, ordering Zarbon out of the room, as he was getting in her way. The large, pale blue male had tried to argue with her, but a soft order from 17 had the larger male vacating the room. Quickly. Soon, the nursemaid was done, and she told 17 that he'd have to give the baby to its mother so that it could feed. But before he could comply with her orders, she left, leaving 17, Bulma, and the infant alone in the room.  
  
This had been his first time being in a room with a true infant. He had been excused from watching Prince Gohan's birth ten years previous, a fact for which he was ever grateful. For him, this was truly an experience. A rather gross one considering how many body fluids were leaked out of the human woman, but an experience nonetheless.  
  
"Give me my child," Bulma whispered through her exhaustion.  
  
"Of course," 17 replied, walking carefully with the bundle. "What will you name it?"  
  
"Name it?" Bulma asked, suddenly realizing that she hadn't even thought of a name for the child. "Name it... Hmm... I guess... I mean, I never thought that I'd be able to name it."  
  
"Choose wisely," 17 stated softly, handing over the child. "Names are important."  
  
"Huh?" Bulma queried, looking at the icy eyes of one of her most hated enemies. "What do you mean?"  
  
"I am 17. The seventeenth prototype of a cybernetic creation created only for war and chaos," 17 answered stepping back. "But at one time, I was human."  
  
"I know," Bulma said as she struggled out of her hospital gown, trying to allow her growingly frustrated child to nurse. "I know how you were designed."  
  
"Do you know what my name was?" 17 asked her, quite curious.  
  
"Your name?" Bulma responded, her blue eyes widening in surprise, her task forgotten for a moment. "Your name? You mean, before you became 17?"  
  
"Yes. Before I came online. What was my name when I was organic, completely and fully?"  
  
"... I don't know," Bulma replied quietly. Somehow, realizing that the person she had reviled for more than fifteen years, spat at, shouted at, fought with at every turn was something that she and her fellow resistance fighters had created made her no longer hate the dark-haired male. Instead, she rather pitied him. Of course, it could have been the postpartum depression speaking. "I don't have a clue what your name was."  
  
"Neither do I," 17 responded with a semi-bow. Rising up, he let his eyes lock with those of the tired human. His hair was pulled back in a small ponytail to keep it out of his face, as he had decided long before that he liked the idea of it being up and out of his way. And out of the way of any stray shots that might cut it. After all, his hair wouldn't grow back. "I don't remember anything before I came online. I don't know if I had any family, or friends, or lovers, or... or if I even had a life then. It is... a frightening thing to have the ability to reason, yet no reasons yourself. When you have nothing to lose, when you can't even remember having anything... well, it is very easy to not understand why others would value things. I remember thinking that I must not have been of much value, as my life must have been taken from me. I couldn't remember giving it away, so it must have been stolen."  
  
"I didn't know," Bulma said as she rested back, her baby finally able to suckle. "And I think I should apologize for that, for some reason."  
  
"You don't need to," 17 offered with a tilt of his head. His own admission wasn't an apology, and he did not need hers. "I didn't ask to be -created-. I just woke up as... this. As what I am. I am synthetic, strong, un-aging, created for battle, and I will never grow tired. I am 17. You didn't create me. Dr. Gero did. And he is now dead."  
  
There were several moments of silence as Bulma weighed what the once human male had said. She closed her eyes in exhaustion, trying to think. When she opened her eyes, she saw that 17 was still there, watching the baby as if transfixed. When he noticed her looking at him, he let his gaze return to her and asked again, "What are you going to name the baby?"  
  
During the course of time, 17 had found himself in many roles for the younger male. He had been father figure when Trunks was young, and then older brother as he grew, and then simply friend when time spent apart became more than time spent together. And finally, somehow, miraculously, they had become lovers. Though, they were lovers more of a title than in actual act. The android didn't think that Trunks understood how reluctant 17 was to move forward in their relationship.  
  
He didn't want to ruin it.  
  
Sometimes, though, a moment is ruined not by the two sharing it, but by interruption.  
  
The doors to 17's room hissed open without warning, causing both males to turn in surprise. Trunks immediately fell back behind 17, a defensive gesture that he had learned when he was a mere child and 17 was taking care of him. 17 fell into a fighting stance, two orbs of energy in each hand, before the door was able to fully reveal who was entering. Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending upon what perspective was taken, the intruder was already talking before she entered the room.  
  
"17, you will not believe the kind of day I've had today!" 18 said as the door widened before her. She stepped into the room, and only then did she see 17 was in full fighting stance, eyes blazing red. She pulled up short, uncertain as to the reason behind his unprovoked attack. This wasn't the first time she had come into his room unannounced. But then she saw Trunks hiding behind her brother. She let out a very unladylike snort as she crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm going to use your bathroom."  
  
Two pair of eyes watched the woman walk into the small room and close the door. When she emerged, only 17 remained in the room. "What was he doing here?"  
  
"That is my business. Not yours, sister," the dark-haired android informed his synthetic sibling.  
  
The blond female frowned for a moment, not liking the fact that her brother was trying to keep something away from her. But then she shrugged, sighing exasperatedly, "Whatever."  
  
"Was there a reason you came for a visit?" 17 asked. He thought that Trunks would probably be well away by then. He was glad that the half-breed was quick with retreats.  
  
"Wanted attention," she said, seating herself on the end of his bed. She watched as 17 leaned down and turned down the music. Briefly she wondered what they had been doing that required music, but she didn't let it concern her. Her brother had always been a bit strange with Trunks. This was just a new dimension to that weirdness. "That Krillin is a slippery little sucker. I don't know -how- he manages to keep dodging me."  
  
"Having fun with the chase?" 17 mused. The music player had a different song on now, one for which he didn't particularly care. It was just as well his sister was here. It would eventually return to the songs he liked, but for now it was playing music that was a bit... rougher.  
  
"It's pissing me off, actually," she responded. "Where does he get off, you know?"  
  
"Apparently not with you." 17 smirked, tempting fate by tempting his sister's wrath.  
  
"Take that back! At least I'm not tramping around with the palace joke," she huffed. She was not in the mood for any teasing. All she really wanted was someone to whom to bitch. Unfortunately, she chose the wrong person. More quickly than she'd ever seen him move, 17 was leaning over her, one hand painfully grasping her throat.  
  
"-Never- say that about Trunks, do you hear me? -Never-," the raven-haired android seethed. When he allowed her up she rubbed at her neck, trying to make sure that there was no serious damage.  
  
"Fine!" Continuing to assuage the area, she went on. "What's the deal with you? You've never been so defensive over him. Not like this. Are you... What's going on?"  
  
"It's none of your concern, 18," snapped her brother. "Trunks and my business with him is an off-limits topic."  
  
18 stood finally, jaw clenched, eyes narrowed. "Whatever you say." She shoved him slightly then, enough to push him back a step. "I'm out of here. You're no fun anymore."  
  
Watching the door slide shut, 17 sat down heavily onto his bed, his eyes remaining on the door. He hoped his sister would keep her mouth shut about what she saw. It wouldn't bode well for any of them if she didn't. Especially not Trunks... and especially not her. He'd kill her if anything happened to Trunks because of her.  
  
'Let's hope it never comes to that.'  
  
Leaning back down, 17 turned up the volume. One of his favorite songs was coming on, one that said everything the android himself couldn't say to one lavender-haired individual. 


	14. Showtime

Disclaimer: I'm Deani. I don't own DBZ. Summer's my co-author in crime. She also doesn't own DBZ. But this begs the question that if I owned stock in a company that -does- own DBZ, would that, in turn, mean that -I- owned DBZ? Hmm. Perhaps I should purchase some stock. Anyway, on with the show. I cannot stress reviews enough, folks. Please. Review, review, review. We love them. We need them. We cannot go on without them. Please review. Thanks lots. Also, this is the final tournament chapter. For those of you who are only reading up through the tournament, this is your last stop. Thanks for reading. And for those of you who dig the tangled relationships we're weaving, press on. There's plenty more coming your way. Also, Summer pointed out to me that some of you may be thinking this story is finished, and we're just holding off on posting the chapters. This is absolutely -untrue-. We only write one chapter ahead. So... when you see this, you should know that we only have the next chapter finished. OR we're still working on the next chapter. That's how it works.  
  
Warnings: Yaoi, yaoi, and more yaoi. Guy/guy relationships. Fluff. Angst. Violence. Naughtiness. Oh, yeah. Good times...  
  
Kingdom Come  
  
~Chapter 14  
  
Goten sat comfortably alone in the royal box, nearly lounging. His tail was wrapped loosely around his waist. It was early yet. The final match of the tournament wouldn't be starting for nearly an hour, but he wanted to be there before everyone else. There was a certain privacy just sitting alone in the royal box, and no one would notice him just sitting and thinking there, so he felt somewhat safe, allowing himself to reflect back upon the past twelve or so hours.  
  
Once he'd gotten out of the rejuvenation chamber the day before, he'd been dismayed at not seeing Piccolo waiting for him like the last time. And then he'd had to contend with his father and his brother for far longer than he would've ever wanted. They weren't disappointed, strangely enough, but they weren't supportive either. When at long last he'd been allowed to retire from their company, his first action was to find Piccolo, who happened to have gone to his room for the night. The door to the guest's room opened, and there stood Piccolo, clad only in his indigo gi pants. Goten knew everything would be all right when the taller male instantly reached for him, pulling him into a close embrace and shutting the door behind him.  
  
There had been no kisses, no touches, no carnal relations of any sort. They just held each other until they fell asleep in Piccolo's bed. It was perfect. Just to be content in that by itself.  
  
The real joy came to the young prince when he awoke this morning, early enough that it was still dark outside. Goten was snuggled up against Piccolo, half of his body draped over the larger man's. Piccolo's cheek rested against the demi-saiyajin's forehead, and his arms were wrapped securely around him. Nothing had ever felt more... appropriate to the youth. Gazing up at the green, angular face, he knew it hadn't been in vain to spend his life alone thus far. He'd only been waiting for Piccolo.  
  
With great care, Goten extricated one of his arms. Gently, he began to trace Piccolo's features, his fingertips dancing over green skin softer than a feather. He didn't want to awaken Piccolo. He just wanted to memorize every curve, dip, and line on the man's face by touch. He already knew it by sight. And by heart.  
  
But, sadly, he also knew he had to leave. There would be no acceptable explanation for having the green male's scent all over him, much less being caught leaving his room after a night. Trying carefully to extract himself from long limbs that didn't seem to want to let him go, Goten gasped in surprise when he suddenly found himself rolled onto his back with Piccolo on top of him.  
  
"Going somewhere?" the tall warrior had inquired.  
  
"My room," the prince had responded quietly and unafraid. He knew Piccolo wasn't going to harm him, nor was he going to try anything. He was just curious. Goten also noticed that the larger male felt very good where he was, his larger body pinning him to the bed. "To get ready for the day."  
  
"I see."  
  
They shared one long, languid kiss before Piccolo released him. Putting on his shoes, Goten turned in the doorway to look back at the older man. "Good luck, Piccolo."  
  
Prince Goten's reverie was broken by the arrival of his father, Mistress Bulma, and Zarbon. Goten resituated himself to be seated more properly. Had so much time passed already? Checking his scouter, he saw that a mere fifteen minutes remained before the final round of the tournament was to begin. "Well," Lord Kakarrot said, smirking. "I can always count on -you- to be early, Goten."  
  
"Good morning, father," Goten greeted politely. In turn, he nodded to Bulma and her guard out of courtesy rather than actual respect. He wondered if any of them thought anything of that; previously, the prince wouldn't even acknowledge the presence of the two accompanying his father. Damn his softening resolve towards other people. Piccolo was a bad influence.  
  
"So, my son, feeling less pathetic than yesterday?"  
  
Goten's eyes narrowed just slightly at the jab. "I'm doing quite well, thank you, milord."  
  
"This should be an interesting match today, hmm?" grinned the saiyajin royal. "You can take comfort in the fact that your brother will trounce Demon Lord Piccolo and avenge your loss."  
  
"On the contrary, father," Goten returned. His eyes fixed on the waiting area where he watched part of Piccolo's white cape fluttering in the slight breeze of the day. Slowly, he became aware that he could also -feel- the warrior's presence. It was small, that sensation, but it was there. Turning his eyes away and directing them at his father, he spoke again. "I think Piccolo has an excellent chance at beating Gohan."  
  
"Intriguing," noted Lord Kakarrot. "And is this something you would actually -want- to have happen?"  
  
"Perhaps," the prince answered. "Gohan hasn't been defeated for as long as I can remember. It might be... entertaining to see him lose for once."  
  
An amused, devious smile spread across the emperor's lips. "You're sounding particularly vicious this morning, Goten. I like it. Care to make a wager on the final bout?"  
  
Goten tilted his head to one side, considering his father's words with an appraising look. He had to be cautious. Very cautious. "What are the stakes?"  
  
"Should the Demon Lord win, I'll never say another word about your taking a mate. You will be released from your obligation to choose a mate and produce heirs," Lord Kakarrot said, his eyes narrowing. This was a topic of many disagreements, fights even, between them. And it was also an area of concern for the ruler. He needed sons to produce heirs. If he had thought that it was going to be this difficult getting grandchildren, he'd have demanded that his sons been born as females. They, at least, get pregnant.  
  
"And should Gohan prevail?" Goten inquired. He did his best to make his voice emotionless, hiding how excited he was.  
  
"You will lose your precious 'purity'. And I will choose the partner," his father stated with a sense of finality.  
  
The demi-saiyajin paled, grimacing, as his father's words sunk into his brain. If Gohan won... Lord Kakarrot would force him to sleep with someone who wasn't Piccolo. He knew it would be some female, someone in whom he could never be interested. But attaining his freedom... no longer being obligated to 'settle down' to create a family was the one thing he'd wanted ever since he found out it was expected of him. Was he willing to take that risk? Did he have enough faith in Piccolo's strength? Did he have enough faith in Piccolo? Steadying himself, he stared straight into his father's dark eyes. "I accept."  
  
"Excellent." Lord Kakarrot sat back in his chair, his mind rolling through his options once he'd won this wager. He thought, only briefly, of forcing his strange son to bed the enigmatic Demon Lord with Prince Gohan as an observer. It would be entertaining on one level, as it would put brother against brother. The proud father always did enjoy forcing them into confrontations. It made them both stronger, wiser, and better fighters. Yet, even as he did so, they had to remain loyal to each other, as it was also the only way to survive. He dismissed the idea as quickly as it appeared before him, as he wanted at least ONE of his sons to have his taste in choosing a bed-partner.  
  
He glanced out of the corner of his eye at his son. He knew that of their subjects, they were both feared, but it was Goten who haunted people's nightmares. He knew that the people thought of Goten as the worst of them, the most vicious and cruel. After all, if they were to cross Prince Gohan, or even Lord Kakarrot himself, they would simply die. But with Prince Goten, well, there are worse things than death.  
  
The tailed liege knew that he would have to oversee Goten's... loss of virginity. Personally. He had to admit, though, that Goten did have a nice figure, and he probably had stamina too. That made the emperor think that maybe he and his son should just invite a great many females to a large room. And while Goten performed for them, he and Gohan could partake of the other females...  
  
Then there was also the idea that perhaps he could just marry his son off. If he did that, he would have to make sure it was a worthy match. Someone of power. Someone of decent dowry. Someone who wouldn't bore any of the royal family. Tilting his head to the side, Lord Kakarrot thought that perhaps be best advisor in that area would probably be the woman to his side, Mistress Bulma. Granted, she didn't talk to anyone when she attended the parties and functions, but that did not mean she did not know who was who and what was going on. She was a wise woman, after all. Very wise. And very beautiful. And what was wrong with him that thinking of his son performing a sex show got him thinking that it was time to bed his own lovely woman?  
  
Below them in the Ginyu box, Goten took notice of the two human guests for the first time that day. When had they arrived? He hadn't even realized they had. They were just... there. Neither of them cared to notice him back; they were in deep, hushed conversation.  
  
"Have you heard the bets being made?" Yamcha asked his bald friend. "It's worse than yesterday!"  
  
"I heard Gohan's never lost," replied Krillin. "He's heavily favored to win."  
  
"What do you think Piccolo's chances are?"  
  
"Piccolo's gonna win. If I had any money, I'd bet it all on him." The short human cast a funny sideways glance at Yamcha. "Come on, man. You know how this works. Even if Gohan turns out to be stronger and faster -- which is highly unlikely considering that no one here is hiding their chi, I might add -- than him, Piccolo's still got all that experience and brains. He always was smarter than the rest of us, the bastard."  
  
A sly smirk popped up on Yamcha's face. "You really would bet if we had money?"  
  
"Of course!" Krillin grinned. "But we don't, so what difference does it make?"  
  
"Be right back," Yamcha said cryptically, quickly hopping out of his seat and leaving the Ginyu box. Confused, the bald man sat in his chair, toying with his sash, waiting for his companion to get back from wherever he'd gone. Looking to his left, he saw nothing but empty seats; apparently, the remaining Ginyu force still wasn't up to watching the end of the tournament. He couldn't really blame them since they'd all gotten fairly well thrashed. Suddenly, Yamcha sat back down in his seat and dropped a small brown pouch in Krillin's lap.  
  
"What's this?"  
  
"Money," Yamcha stated. "And a lot of it. Go bet."  
  
Dropping his voice to the barest of whispers, he asked, "Did you -steal- this?"  
  
"Yeah. So?"  
  
"You pickpocket."  
  
"It's always good to stay in practice even when you don't -need- to do it." The scarred fighter appeared pensive for a moment. "Where have I heard that before?"  
  
"Piccolo's always saying that. For someone who doesn't like to talk much, he sure says a lot, doesn't he?" He knew there were only a couple of minutes left before the match between Piccolo and Gohan started, and that betting would be closed off the second the fight began. 'Well,' he thought, 'It's only money. Maybe we can even return the original amount to the owner. That is, if Yamcha can remember who it was. Oh, well. No big.' Scooping up the bag, Krillin exited the box to place his bet, unaware that familiar eyes watched him from elsewhere in the arena.  
  
Standing just inside the entryway leading to the arena floor, Piccolo peered out. The stadium was filling up quickly, and there was the subtle roar of many voices talking at once. His ears twitched slightly, listening to the sounds. He had woken up pleasantly enough, but the day was quickly turning sour. He turned his head to acknowledge the approaching prince. "Good day, Prince Gohan."  
  
"Hopefully it will be, Demon Lord," Gohan smiled, a twisted mockery of what the true Gohan would have done. "Are you already prepared for me?"  
  
Piccolo did not miss the double meaning in that statement. It was blatantly clear what the prince meant, as he was looking with naked hunger in his eyes. The prince's brown tail curled up behind him, its tip curled. Piccolo reflected a moment on how, when Prince Gohan's tail curled, it resembled a hook; but when Prince Goten's tail curled, it ended up looking like a large question mark. But that was only a momentary reflection, and had nothing to do with the topic at hand. Piccolo replied with the more obvious statement, "Even if I were not, it would not matter. It's almost time to fight."  
  
"Hmmm. So it is," Gohan agreed. "Still. I think it only fair to warn you, I'm a bit... more experienced than my little brother. You may find that my stamina for such strenuous activities far exceeds his."  
  
"I'll keep that in mind," Piccolo said, almost as if he were dismissing the prince.  
  
Gohan picked up on the dismissal, though. His grin intensified, more out of arrogance and annoyance than out of anything pleasant. "You sound as if you think you have a chance of actually winning, dear Demon Lord. It would be wise of you to understand that I haven't lost this tournament since I was a mere child."  
  
"There's always a first time for everything," Piccolo stated, his eyes narrowing. "And for everyone."  
  
"Heh," Gohan sounded, his arms folding across his chest. "You are a challenge, Demon Lord Piccolo. I will give you that much. You are a challenge. And I so do love to have a good challenge."  
  
To that Piccolo had nothing to say, so he remained silent. Somehow, he was not surprised when Gohan continued.  
  
"I can't wait to have you." Gohan's voice was softly dangerous. His eyes traversed the green man's body, noting that there wasn't a single blemish from all the days of fighting. He, himself, had one cut, but that was only because he got a bit careless and his opponent got lucky.  
  
At that moment, the signal was given that the fighters needed to approach the arena. As silent as the wind, Piccolo walked out into the midmorning light. Prince Gohan had to hurry to catch up to keep in line with his opponent. His slight frown was all the sign he gave that he was not pleased with the larger man.  
  
Not pleased at all.  
  
Upon stepping foot onto the cracked white tiles, though, the elder prince began to cheer up a bit. He was the best after all. He'd win this competition. And he'd win Piccolo. And he would show the Demon Lord who was truly the best there was in the palace. The best at everything. Of course, Gohan's mood was also improved by the steady cheering that the crowd was engaged in. They repeated his name over and over again, as if it were some holy mantra. As if it brought them all euphoria. As if it was what was sustaining them.  
  
Grinning broadly, Prince Gohan raised his arms and turned in place, allowing his followers to increase the volume of their exaltations. The crowd went mad. His smile brightened considerably when he saw the lowest row, above the door exiting the arena, was overflowing with very luscious individuals, all of them nearly falling out of their places in their eagerness. The prince laughed as garments and precious presents rained down, and they were all for him. It was like this every time he fought.  
  
Gohan loved it. All of it. The attention. The women. The men. The others. The gifts. The praise. The fact that they all worshipped him like the living god he was.  
  
He devoured it all, making it part of who he was.  
  
He dipped at the waist, a mockery of a bow to his fans, before turning to bow to Piccolo. As he lowered his upper torso, he looked up, a sign of disrespect if there ever was one, and puckered his lips in a promise of a kiss.  
  
Piccolo narrowed his eyes in vexation and disgust. How could Gohan, any dimension's version, be turned and corrupted into this? He rose up, and bowed to Lord Kakarrot. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Gohan moving.  
  
The prince's swift kick flew through the air even as the gong sounded that the fight was to begin. But to Gohan's chagrin, Piccolo wasn't there. Grinning wickedly, Gohan looked all around him, missing the flash of green and white that was the larger male as he landed behind the prince. The demi- saiyajin felt the Demon Lord's swift uppercut to his back, though.  
  
The crowd was reduced to a low roar of murmurs and shouts. This was unprecedented! No one had ever managed to land the first blow against the royal heir. Not since the boy was a child, at least. It was a shame that the fight soon picked up to an intensity that did not allow most of the weaker warriors gathered to view the fight, otherwise they might have noticed some of what was transpiring between the two combatants.  
  
There were several people present who could watch, though. Krillin and Yamcha could be heard shouting for their green companion, but most everyone already knew who their champion was. They were the only human males present who were also free, or at least assumed free. The word was out on with whose party they belonged. But the fact that Prince Goten's voice rang out in the arena was a shock to a great many.  
  
"C'mon, Piccolo! Kick his ass!" Prince Goten was on his feet, his tail wrapped securely around him. His hands were fisted in the air as he shouted for Piccolo, calling out the Demon Lord's name. He grinned back at his father, baring his teeth. If it weren't for the wager between them, Goten would have to pretend to be indifferent. He'd have to pretend to want both to win. But the stakes were high, and he was going to cheer on HIS champion. The hybrid prince turned back to the fight.  
  
Lord Kakarrot grinned as he called out for Gohan, ordering his son to triumph. "Gohan! You'd better win this! Otherwise, -I'm- going to come out there and kick your royal ass!"  
  
A great many eyebrows were raised at the two royals' antics. Some suspected that they were a bit high on the catnip, but others simply shrugged it off as some kind of eccentric behavior that comes from being too powerful.  
  
In the ring, and in the air, the two opponents sidestepped and dodged each other's rapid attacks. Gohan was a bit concerned, as he wasn't used to this level of competition for any length of time. He wasn't sure, but he rather thought he'd have to go into his ascended form. Which was fine by him. He looked damn good as a blond, after all. But his brother's cheers were getting on his nerves.  
  
"Shut -up-, Goten!" the elder prince growled under his breath. How -dare- that little brat cheer for the competition! As if he wasn't having a difficult enough time concentrating on the fight. He had wanted to get Piccolo into the ring for far too long now, and here they were, skin raking against skin. Bruising each other with tender mercies. But! He had to listen to his little brother rooting for the other team. Not that he himself hadn't been on Piccolo's side up until that point, but this was different. This was the championship match! Goten was -supposed- to be cheering for -him-! Where was his father, harping on the value of family loyalty? Family loyalty, which was the only thing of value.  
  
The taller male forced himself not to grin at Goten's vocal encouragement. He was both proud and pleased that the youngest demi-saiyajin was able to support him rather than his brother. But why? He'd have to ask the young prince himself after the match... if he got the chance. Piccolo smirked as he watched Gohan's concentration and composure fluctuate. "He knows," sounded the green warrior in his deadliest voice. "He knows you're going to lose."  
  
"I don't lose!" shouted Gohan back. "He knows nothing!"  
  
"Listen to him," Piccolo continued. He knew how Gohan had wanted him, lusted after him. It was no secret, after all. The elder of the princes was rather crudely blatant about it. Which just gave fuel for Piccolo to use against the demi-saiyajin, gave him ammunition to cause Gohan to lose control of his reasoning. "Calling out my name over and over. I think I like that. Sounds... nice... coming from -him-."  
  
"You shut your mouth!" the demi-saiyajin retorted. "You're -mine-!"  
  
The spectators on the ground gasped in unison as above them, where Prince Gohan had been, a new sun exploded. Bright, golden light, the likes of which some had never seen before. Hundreds of scouters exploded where they were, blinding some and injuring others. Lord Kakarrot beamed with pride at his elder son, knowing that his bet was as good as made. Goten gripped the railing, wondering what the future might hold, not sure if Piccolo were -that- strong, but hoping nonetheless. The only ones to remain unaffected were the two humans, Krillin and Yamcha, and Piccolo.  
  
"Oh, shit," chuckled Krillin, amused. "-Now- we'll see a real fight."  
  
"This oughta be pretty good," agreed Yamcha, a smug grin stretched across his face. "Piccolo's still gonna win though."  
  
"Oh, yeah, no doubt," the bald human nodded. "No doubt."  
  
Piccolo grinned at the glowing youth before him, not the least bit intimidated. He'd seen better, after all. "Done?"  
  
"Not by a long shot," Gohan snarled, knowing he was about to win. Enjoying the feel. He didn't like attaining this altered form, as it required a lot of concentration and power. But it was a great way to show off.  
  
"Bring it on," Piccolo said, crooking two fingers to beckon the prince on.  
  
With a roar, Gohan charged forward, pulling his fist back for one almighty punch. He thought that Piccolo understood. No one won the tournaments except him, except Prince Gohan, the Golden Prince. No one was supposed to be stronger than him! No one! But Piccolo wasn't playing by the rules that Gohan knew, and the younger male found the wind knocked out of him by a series of rapid uppercuts that pounded into his abdomen from green fists that flew faster than even his teal eyes could see. Gohan flew backwards, trying to recoup.  
  
Even as the prince moved away, Piccolo charged forward, aiming to land behind the half-breed. Easier than he thought was right, Piccolo managed to introduce the ball of his foot with the base of Gohan's spine, just above the up-curled tail. The prince flew forward through the air, disoriented and in pain, but was intelligent enough to use the momentum to his advantage, which was some relief to the Demon Lord.  
  
Piccolo didn't want to fight a stupid opponent. He was rather tired of them.  
  
Grinning a bloody smile, Gohan turned in the air, mindful that pain was just an extent of pleasure. He flew back to Piccolo, intent on making the other male suffer as he did. Suffer as much as he had. He allowed his anger, his flat out rage, to increase his speed and power, trading blows with the surprisingly powerful opponent. He had known Piccolo was strong, he just never thought that the green male was -that- strong. Strong enough to take a super-saiyajin punch to the midsection with no more than a grunt of pain. Teal eyes narrowed in vexation, but the prince managed to see a slight opening.  
  
Slipping past Piccolo, the prince managed to entrap the green man's arms at his side as he embraced him from behind. Leaning his head up, nuzzling the white cape, Gohan simultaneously grabbed at Piccolo's sex. "You know, I can't wait until you're laying on the ground under me, broken and begging. I can't wait to hear you calling out my name, worshipping me like all the others do. And don't think you won't. Like you said, there's a first time for everything. And for this, there's going to be more than a simple first time. There's going to be lots of times."  
  
In the royal box, Goten saw the maneuver, though he was unable to hear what was being said. He glared at what his brother was doing, irate that he would -dare- touch Piccolo in such a vulgar manner in public. "OH, COME ON!"  
  
"Something wrong, Goten?" Lord Kakrrot asked with a devilish smile, enjoying at least one of his sons taking advantage of the situation.  
  
"Yeah! Gohan's practically screwing Piccolo!" Goten cried out, not really paying attention to who he was complaining to.  
  
"What's the matter? Jealous?" the full-blooded saiyajin asked with amusement. He'd never seen Goten get so riled up at a tournament match. In fact, the only thing that ever incensed his younger son so much was the perpetual argument on his lack of mating habits. Lord Kakarrot started to reconsider his plans for after Gohan won this tournament. Perhaps he -should- make Goten sleep with the green male, with Gohan as supervisor. He knew that his youngest son and the green man had been talking at the party together... but perhaps they had become friends, not that Lord Kakarrot would have known. Friends were good to have. Especially loyal friends. Loyal like his friends, 17 and 18, were.  
  
Goten flushed crimson, as he turned to his father, his eyes as large as planets. Lord Kakarrot looked at his son's expression and began to laugh, a full, deep-throated laugh that came all the way from his warrior's soul. He thought that the look on Goten's face was one of horror, not realizing it was one of embarrassment and guilt.  
  
"Father," Goten began, his voice thick. He coughed and began again, the dark red stain on his features leaching away. "Do you seriously think that it's... decent... or proper for Gohan to be out there, fucking his opponents on stage, and presenting himself as nothing more than a floor show of utmost... PERVERSION to our followers? While I don't really -care- what he does with his personal life in private, I -REFUSE- to allow him to make a mockery of -ALL- of us by traipsing around in public as some kind of tricked out whore!"  
  
"Heh," Lord Kakarrot said, the laughter finally dying down some. He indicated the somewhat forgotten fight. "It seems that your champion agrees with you."  
  
Piccolo gritted his teeth in aggravation, unpleasantly feeling more of the prince than he cared to feel pressing against his back. Whereas both he and Goten had become aroused during their match, he felt no such reaction towards the older prince, and certainly thought Gohan shouldn't be getting off on this. That match was different. This was... 'Disgusting,' Piccolo spat in his mind. With a loud war cry, he broke out of Gohan's embrace, spinning away from the prince. When he was a fair distance away, he tossed off his cape and turban.  
  
"Oh, see, now you're beginning to understand," Gohan grinned. "Why not go ahead and remove the rest of it, too."  
  
"About the only thing else I'm going to remove," Piccolo replied, "is that arrogant smirk off your face."  
  
Now that he was free of his weighted outfit, Piccolo was able to access more power and speed. Gohan's eyes widened in surprise at the ferocity with which Piccolo faced him. Despite the fact that he was being driven backwards as he attempted to block each attack, the prince fought to keep that air of superiority in his voice as he said, "You know, I will still win this."  
  
Piccolo scoffed, increasing the intensity of his assault. "You think you can take me, huh? Well, come on, then. Kick my ass."  
  
"Oh, I'll take you here," grinned the demi-saiyajin. "But you can take -me- after I win the tournament."  
  
"Keep dreaming," the green male smirked back. "I have better things to do than you."  
  
Gohan shook his head, his grin never faltering. He knew the Demon Lord was only trying to piss him off. 'He doesn't mean all of that crap,' the prince thought. 'He just wants a more brutal fight. Gods, that's hot. When this is over... Ohhh, he's gonna be -so- -good-.' His tongue flicked out over his lips. "Believe me. You won't find anyone -better- anywhere."  
  
"I don't know," Piccolo spoke quietly, breaking off the offense and floating back from Gohan, just far enough away to where the younger man could still hear him but not reach him. He'd found only one weak spot in the prince's seemingly unflappable ego, but he didn't want to push things too far. As long as Goten remained unharmed, this taunting would be all right. Besides, he didn't really think Gohan took what he said all that seriously. Tossing a glance in Goten's general direction, Piccolo continued, "Hear that? I just love the way he screams my name."  
  
"Shut up!" The prince glowered then, his golden aura flaring around him. He knew Piccolo was just provoking him; that -had- to be what it was. That was the only way it -could- be. If only Goten would stop cheering for the strange warrior, then Gohan wouldn't have to contend with both his cheers and Piccolo's jeers. Whatever the green man had said was enough to get Gohan's blood boiling. 'I'll give him the fight of his life!' Howling his anger into the air, Gohan charged Piccolo, moving faster than he had before.  
  
Piccolo laughed as he danced just out of reach of the prince's attacks, mocking him with each dodge that was faster than the royal could see. Faster than the younger man could imagine. Gohan pulled back for a moment, trying to regroup his thoughts. He let out a primal scream as he lashed out with all his frustrated energy. After his momentary temper tantrum, he returned to the fight, glaring with anticipation at the enticing quarry that remained elusive to his touch. "Stop this teasing and fight me!"  
  
"You want it?" Piccolo asked, moving. "You got it."  
  
Gohan never saw the Demon Lord's attack. Appearing behind the tailed warrior, Piccolo smashed his doubled fist into the dark-haired male's face, knocking him aside. Before the stars cleared from his dark eyes, though, Gohan felt another bone-crushing blow land. Screaming out in pain, the prince felt his tail being snapped twice, once at the tip the second in the middle. Spinning as best he could to retaliate, Gohan was unprepared for the foot that connected with his face. There was the unmistakable sound of bone crunching, and the prince was rather sure that his jaw was thrown out of joint. And then darkness enveloped him. Which, being unconscious, saved him from feeling the impact of his body hitting the tiles of the arena floor hard enough not only to cause a crater, but to force the exotic stone to react to the occasion as if it were water, splashing outward from a heavy stone.  
  
The crowd was beside themselves with shock. This was... amazing. Prince Gohan, the royal heir, the Golden Prince, had been bested at the Royal Tournament by a mystery fighter. Even as the silence droned on for what seemed like a mini-eternity, a few began to clap. Krillin and Yamcha couldn't help their smug expressions, as if -they- were responsible for the prince's beating. Quickly, the applause was taken up by the rest of the stadium.  
  
Piccolo floated to the ground, his eyes on the royal box. Even as his overly sensitive ears picked up the sounds of thousand upon thousands of voices screaming his name, whistling shrilly, or simply calling out their own congratulations, Piccolo remained impassive. For him, the next moments were crucial. It was time to see how the royals would react to this turn of events.  
  
Lord Kakarrot stood at the edge of the royal box against the railing, a mix of emotions barreling through him. On one hand, he'd never seen such a spectacular fight in all his years of holding the tournament. However, had it come at the expense of his elder son's life? He turned to speak with Goten, but the young prince was not next to him. A quick movement down on the arena floor caught his eye. Goten had gone to the platform.  
  
The youngest demi-saiyajin hopped onto what remained of the platform and kneeled down next to his brother's unmoving form. Checking for vitals, his eyes shut, and he heaved a deep sigh of relief. "Medics!" he yelled.  
  
Practically before he'd finished uttering the second syllable, the medical team rushed out and assumed control of the situation. The prince stepped back to allow them the room to maneuver and admired their efficiency. As soon as they'd departed the platform and were well on their way out of the arena, Goten turned around. The crowd slowly fell silent, only the light breeze causing any noise. All eyes were affixed to Prince Goten, who was slowly walking towards Piccolo across the platform. No one breathed.  
  
Stopping a few feet from Piccolo, he bowed politely, conceding the win to the taller male. Then, he faced his father in the royal box, awaiting 'official' word. Lord Kakarrot still stood against the railing of the box, looking down at the Demon Lord and his younger son. Yes, the loyalty between his sons continued to burn brightly, even in the face of defeat. "Demon Lord Piccolo," the emperor called out. "Step forward."  
  
Taking a deliberately slow step forward on the platform, Piccolo bowed in acknowledgement. He knew he could fight his way out if the saiyajin decided he'd gone too far injuring Prince Gohan. But he wasn't stupid. That would only be the absolutely last resort. The last option if every other option had been tried... and failed.  
  
Lord Kakarrot weighed his own options very carefully. He wasn't a sore loser, no matter what he'd really lost in the outcome. Certain things needed to be addressed regarding the 'guests', but that would come later. Later, when he could convene with Prince Goten to decide what exactly should be done about the green man and the two humans. He had something in mind, something particular, something that would be... entertaining to probably only himself. But that would come later. Right then, he needed to declare the outcome of the tournament. Raising his arm out on either side of his body, he announced, "To Demon Lord Piccolo, the tournament champion!"  
  
The enthusiastic response of the masses nearly deafened Piccolo.  
  
***  
  
Having kicked out all the personnel and patients, only Lord Kakarrot and Prince Goten remained in the medical lab with Prince Gohan. Goten stood next to the rejuvenation chamber, which held his recovering brother. Thirty- six hours, the medical team had said. Thirty-six! Neither of the princes had -ever- had to spend more than a day in a tank. And that was only once.  
  
He placed a hand on the clear glass to the tank, peering inside. Gohan looked so... young, floating in there. Younger than he did, in fact. Helpless. Making a mental note, Goten knew he would have to post guards outside the chamber, even if his father didn't think to mention it. He grinned slightly, letting his hand drop away. There was no real need to worry, he knew, but just to be safe...  
  
His eyes fixed on his father, who was pacing back and forth across the empty room. "Would you please sit down, father. You're making me dizzy."  
  
"Oh, fine." The emperor unceremoniously planted his rear on a metal table across from his sons. He preferred to be active while he thought. It made his head clearer. He looked at the foggy print on the tank's window, realizing that he hadn't been paying very much attention to the world around him as he muddled through his worries. He would have to become a bit more aware if he wished to remain alive now that there was a real threat around. Swinging his feet back and forth slightly, he addressed his conscious offspring. "We need to discuss what to do about the green man and his two humans."  
  
"What do you mean? What needs to be done?" the prince asked. He folded his arms across his chest as his tail rewrapped around his torso. He frowned slightly, tilting his head to the side. As far as he knew, none of the three were a threat. Well, Piccolo was a threat to his sanity and his chastity, but those were two things he wouldn't mind parting with permanently if it meant he'd get to keep Piccolo for eternity.  
  
"It's quite clear that the Demon Lord is very strong," began the tall saiyajin. His tail snapped through the air as he spoke, showing how he hated finding out that he had been acting foolish. It was degrading. "We have underestimated him thus far, and I do not intend to persist in doing so. Jeice was right in bringing them to the palace when he did."  
  
"Yes," Goten agreed. He tilted his head to the side as he noticed a slight grin on his father's face. It was one that said he had just found a way out of something unpleasant. "Father?"  
  
"Jeice shall be made Captain. Tonight," the emperor said with a wicked smile. "And in the morning, he and Burter shall be shipped off to purge a planet that's been causing me problems. The mongrels there thought to not pay their taxes twice. They shall become an example to the rest of the galaxy."  
  
"As you say, so shall it be done," Goten said with a slight bow. Rising upward, he looked at his father, not bothering to go to his task. He had to know if his father was going to be true to his word, and now was as good an opportunity as any. "But that reminds me. Now that I am free of YOUR desire to find a bedmate, are you going to be marrying off Gohan as you've been threatening to do? You so do want heirs."  
  
"I believe I shall have to look into it. I want this empire strong, Goten. It's something I've created, and I'll be damned if you two are going to ruin it by siring nothing at all. You fuck nothing, which produces no heirs, and Gohan fucks anything and -still- produces no heirs. I want heirs! Only my heirs can keep the empire solid. It's strong as it is, but that's only because I am strong." Lord Kakarrot sighed. He grunted as he crossed his arms over his chest. They were getting into a subject he had been thinking on since the tournament ended. "In order for the empire to remain strong, we should protect it. Protect it -- and ourselves -- against these strangers. I want the guards back on duty for our 'guests'. You'll need to find a replacement for Vegeta. Physically, he's in no condition to guard anyone."  
  
"Won't work," Goten replied bluntly.  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Tried it. Didn't take. Ginyu died."  
  
"Oh, yeah. Huh." Lord Kakarrot contemplated his options for a moment. He scratched a hand through his scalp before giving a gusty sigh. "All right. Just put 17, 18, and Vegeta back on duty. First thing in the morning. And give them explicit instructions to keep the guests as preoccupied and -separate- as possible. We'll try to keep them from seeing each other too often, but inconspicuously, of course."  
  
"Of course," Goten nodded, his features blanking so as not to give away any of his inner thoughts. It was his job to obey, whether he agreed or not. Whether he liked it or not.  
  
"And one more thing," continued the saiyajin emperor with a sly smile. "Since Demon Lord Piccolo so graciously refused the prize money, we should give him an alternate reward."  
  
"Did you have something particular in mind?" the young prince inquired as he watched his father cross the room to a universal communications panel. He knew that his father had -something- in mind already, otherwise he wouldn't have mentioned it. He also knew he had to be cautious with his reactions. Something was up, and Goten knew enough to be worried that he didn't know what it was.  
  
Pressing a few buttons, Lord Kakarrot brought up the palace schematics on the broad screen, focusing in on the east wing, which was mostly housing. "We'll give him and the humans new rooms. Suites," announced the royal. Sliding a finger along one hallway, he stopped at one end. "We'll put the little one and 18 on Level 4, Suite A."  
  
"That's not a very high level," remarked Goten. His brow knit slightly. Not that Level 4 suites weren't very nice, they were. There were not listening devices in there, as they were strictly given as gifts to completely trustworthy guests, or guests that no one worried about for various reasons. But if his father was intending to give them all better rooms... Piccolo earned more than a Level 4 room.  
  
"We've seen no example of his power. Plus, he's small. How dangerous can he be? Level 4 will do for him." Staring at the layout, the royal went on. "The scarred one and Vegeta... Level 7... Suite H."  
  
"That's on the completely opposite end of the wing," the prince noted, his voice neutral.  
  
"Your -point-?"  
  
The demi-saiyajin's eyebrows arched high. "Do you mean to split them up physically as well?"  
  
"Divide and conquer, my son. It will be much easier to watch them and keep them separated if they have no real excuses to see one another." Lord Kakarrot knew his subsequent move had to be executed in a certain way. This idea had come to him earlier in the day, just after he'd pronounced Piccolo the tournament champion. A small smile threatened to break out onto his face. He had so many reasons for his next action. So, so many delicious reasons. None of which he was going to give away now. "And what to do with the Demon Lord," he mumbled aloud, convincingly. He pretended to be searching for a proper suite, when in reality, he was only wasting time with his façade. Skimming his fingertips across the screen, they finally landed on a single large room. "Here. Level 10, Suite B."  
  
"Level 10?" Goten asked. Feigning shock and indignation, he masked his enthusiasm with a scowl and an irate voice. "But that's -my- level!"  
  
"Is it?" queried his father. Precisely the reaction for which he'd been hoping. Piccolo's presence so near to Goten would irritate both brothers. Goten, because he didn't want to share space of any kind with anyone, let alone the Demon Lord, and Gohan, because he didn't want to share the Demon Lord. There were other reasons; he most certainly had other reasons. But anything to rouse the ire of his sons, especially if it could somehow be redirected towards the other, was exactly what Lord Kakarrot wanted. "Well, the schematics show two suites on that floor. They're at opposite ends of the hallway. Does it bother you so much?"  
  
"It's -my- level," Goten reiterated. He ran through several scenarios in his head, trying to figure out what his father's angle was. None that he came up with sounded right, though. He was left confused and suspicious, and trying to hold off the inner glee he felt that Piccolo was going to be within easy reach.  
  
"Goten, you are a prince and the Royal Inquisitor," Lord Kakarrot pointed out. "Who better to keep an eye on the mysterious Demon Lord than you?"  
  
"I have never had to share my level with any other being for as long as I've existed," pouted the young man, hoping he wasn't taking things too far, "and I don't want to, either. I don't like this."  
  
"Stop acting like a five-year-old. It doesn't become you," Kakarrot scolded. It was rather sad that his youngest son, the one that terrified more of the court that even -HE- did, was so private. So suppressed. So... afraid. He remembered seeing his son soon after he emerged from the last torturer's tender mercies, and he had taken note that there wasn't a single scar on his young body. But Goten had informed him then that it was a mark of a true master that no victim carries any signs of their ordeal. But after that day, his youngest son never went out without being fully clothed, as if to hide scars that only he could see. Why he wanted to hide them, Kakarrot had no clue, but he did. And it was just one more sign of weakness in his opinion.  
  
"But--" Goten attempted to protest.  
  
"But nothing. Have the rooms readied. Inform the guards," the emperor grounded out. He loved the plan he was setting into motion, but Goten's complaints were getting old fast. "You know what to do. Make it happen. Now, go."  
  
After looking inside the tank one final time, Goten left the room to follow his orders. First, he would contact Jeice and give him his promotion. Then he'd see about the rooms. After that came the fun part... hunting down the guards. Once the med center's doors closed behind him, Goten gave a fleeting thought to the fact that -someone- would also have to tell Piccolo that he and his group were being moved. With a grin, he thought, 'Well, it might as well be me...' 


	15. Redefinition

Disclaimer- I, Summer Starr, and my co-authoress, Deani, own nothing of DBZ. Sad, really. I mean, this would make such a better continuation than DBZ GT.  
  
Warnings- Yaoi! Lemon. Angst. Other fun stuff.  
  
Kingdom Come ~ Chapter 15  
  
Krillin's feet skidded across the floor as he tried to run around a hallway corner too quickly. Five minutes before, he'd made the mistake of going to collect his winnings from betting on the match. Not that collecting his money was a mistake. But he'd let his guard down. That was the mistake. And that's when 18 had spotted him.  
  
Having lost contact with Yamcha during a failed interference ploy, the bald human was now by himself, trying to make it back into a crowded area so that he could 'blend'. He looked ahead of himself down the hallway and saw... absolutely nothing. "Aw, man!" he groaned softly. "There's not even a vase or something to hide behind!"  
  
He continued to run, turning towards the direction in which the din of the crowd grew louder. Bursting through double doors, Krillin tripped over his feet, falling onto the ground. The people moving by didn't see him, didn't realize they were trampling him. It didn't hurt at all, but it -was- irritating. Suddenly, a dark hand pulled him up from the dirty walkway and set him on his feet, directing him off to the side near a sales booth. "Thanks for saving my ass, buddy," Krillin smiled. "With my luck, one of those elephant people would've come by and stomped me flatter than a hotcake."  
  
"Worry not, my friend," said the cloaked stranger. "You are safe now."  
  
That voice. There was something very familiar about that voice. And his energy... 'Do I know this guy from somewhere?' Krillin wondered. "Have we met?"  
  
"No, but I do wish to speak with you," the other man replied. "Do you know of a quiet spot where we might converse?"  
  
With dead certainty, the short human realized he knew that voice, and he wanted to hear whatever it was the man had to say, even if he ended up having to fight him in the end. "Sure thing. Follow me."  
  
Krillin made his way back to his guest room, warily keeping an eye out for that sneaky blonde android. Finally, he and the stranger arrived, and Krillin stood back from him. "All right," he said. "You can take ditch the death shroud now, pal."  
  
The front was unclasped, and then the hood fell back, revealing a bejeweled turban and glossy black skin. Krillin knew he'd been right. He knew he'd recognized the voice. But this man looked so much different from the version he knew in his universe. For one, he was dreadfully thin, as if he'd been starving for years. But the eyes were the same, though sadder. "Mr. Popo?"  
  
"You know me," smiled the once-servant of this universe's Kami. "I am pleased."  
  
Krillin eyed him suspiciously for a moment. "Wait a minute. You're not evil, are you?"  
  
"Evil is a relative term, my friend," Mr. Popo elucidated. "But if you count Lord Kakarrot among the evil, then no. I am not evil."  
  
"Oh, good," the bald man breathed. "I don't think I could take another crappy surprise like that." Studying the physically different but, in all other ways, similar Mr. Popo, a new thought formed in Krillin's mind. "What are you doing here? Have you been here this whole time?"  
  
"I felt the disturbance your arrival caused here, and I searched the world over for the ones who did not belong here," explained Mr. Popo. "It was not until I saw Demon Lord Piccolo that I knew I had finally found them. That I had found you."  
  
"Me?" the short human questioned. "What do you want me for?"  
  
"You are the most easily accessible from what I have observed. You will be able to share my message with the Demon Lord and your scarred companion." He pulled out a small scroll of paper. "This is how I knew you would arrive here and what I have prepared."  
  
"Prepared?" Krillin scrunched his face up in confusion. He was being cryptic and acting a little paranoid. Was this Mr. Popo high? "What do you have?"  
  
"The way for you to return home," responded the dark, thin man. "The Mirror of Janus."  
  
***  
  
Vegeta pulled himself up onto his arms slowly. He was waiting for the pain to set in. He was very familiar with this procedure, and knew that as soon as he became fully aware, he would realize that his entire body was one big ache. When the pain wasn't as quick in coming as it usually was, Vegeta decided to try getting to his knees. His tail flicked the sheet away, raising to curl behind him. His bare skin was left to decide the temperature of the air. Finally, on his hands and knees, Vegeta opened his eyes.  
  
There wasn't any pain. And these weren't his sheets. These were clean sheets.  
  
After spending two days in bed, they should have been dirty. They should have been soaked through with his sweat. Instead, they were almost crisp in their cleanliness. Vegeta didn't waste too much time trying to figure out that mystery, though. He was too busy bracing himself for the pain that he knew was going to hammer into him at any moment. He just wished that that moment would occur already.  
  
Even as Vegeta gathered his thoughts to fight back the nausea that he knew was bound to assault him at any moment, now that consciousness had returned, the door to his room slid open. He froze where he was, more concerned with the pain that was going to occur because of his newest guest than he was with the pain that was supposed to be there already.  
  
"Good, you're up," Goten said as the door hissed closed behind him. He looked at the elder male with a critical eye. Vegeta -appeared- to be fully recovered. Only time would tell, though. "You're being re-assigned."  
  
"To where, milord?" Vegeta asked softly, slowly sitting down on his knees. He was very much aware that this was Prince Goten, and that he was nude in front of him.  
  
He thought that the prince was going to reassign him to some outward planet, someplace so far out on the rim on known space that it wasn't even inhabited. Someplace where no one would have to look at him, the mockery of what a true saiyajin could be. Someplace where he'd never have to look at Yamcha, and see how badly he'd screwed up. Someplace where he'd be alone, with time on his hands to reflect on everything he'd done wrong, not only with himself, but with the opportunities that came his way.  
  
It was also very strange that it was Prince Goten re-assigning him, as he was more of Prince Gohan's soldier, as he was a guard and not one of the Inquisitor's Task Force. Also, it was strange that he was going to be given duty so soon after the tournament. Most fighters who spent any amount of time in the tank were given at least two days -after- they woke up to recover.  
  
"You're going to return to your station as guard to the human, Yamcha," Prince Goten revealed. He watched from where he was as a string of powerful emotions flashed across the weaker man's face. Just before Vegeta blanked all expression on his face, Goten took note of the fear that expressed itself in wide eyes and pale skin. He watched as the elder warrior wrapped his tail gingerly around his waist. He gave a small half smile as he added, "Pack your things. You'll be moving in with him into his -new- room."  
  
"New room, sir?" Vegeta asked, daring to look at the youngest of the princes, realizing that this -was- the day after the tournament, and Goten didn't have a mark on him. 'What happened while I was out?'  
  
"Yes. He's getting one of the smaller state suites," Goten acknowledged. "Bedroom, bath, closet, small bar and kitchenette. It's part of the 'prize' allotted to Demon Lord Piccolo for taking the tournament. And father thought it would be a good idea to place Yamcha at a higher level of the palace than his human friend as he -did- kill Recoom."  
  
"Piccolo won?" Vegeta whispered. The news caused him to pale considerably, though Goten wasn't sure why. For Vegeta, this news meant several things. One, it meant that he hadn't imagined Yamcha saving his life in the arena and then walking him to his room. Two, it meant that everything the human had said the first day they met was true. Three, it meant that Yamcha was powerful as well, powerful enough to take revenge for what he did that night... Four, it meant that his life was about to get a lot worse. A lot worse.  
  
"Yes. Demon Lord Piccolo won," Goten repeated, and he couldn't control the smug smirk that spread across his features. It -was- an amazing fight. More importantly, it was an amazing opportunity. He was free! Physically shaking his head, as if to get the idea to dislodge from the forefront of his mind, Goten continued. "But YOU will not be dealing with him. He'll be located in a -MUCH- larger room, three levels up. The human, Krillin, will be the closest, but he'll be three floors down. By order of my father, it will be your job to make sure that their socializing is cut down to a bare minimum. Understand?"  
  
"Yes, sire," Vegeta whispered. His mouth was dry. If Yamcha wasn't going to be allowed to spend time with his friends, then it would be up to Vegeta to keep him company. He didn't know if he'd be able to do that. He had made such an ass of himself! First by blackmailing someone stronger than him into a sexual situation, and then by bawling like a baby in his arms.  
  
Goten nodded his head once, curtly, before turning and exiting the room. Vegeta was left behind to gather his meager possessions. He experimented with movement slowly, always anticipating some form of pain. By the time he packed up all of his things to retrieve later, he had come to the startling conclusion that perhaps he -wasn't- going to experience any.  
  
It was strange, not feeling any pain. He just hoped that it would last.  
  
***  
  
It took Goten far longer to track 17 down than it did any one else. Vegeta had been the easiest to find as he could be no place else other than in his room recovering. And 18... Finding her had been luck. The young demi- saiyajin literally ran into her, and he was rather confused by her overt enthusiasm. Whereas Vegeta had seemed confused and skeptical, 18 was almost shamelessly gleeful. 'And that was kind of scary. What a nut,' Goten thought. But it was 17 who'd given him the most trouble. He'd already spent over two hours looking for him.  
  
In the end, the prince discovered that the android was in his room. Goten flicked his tail behind him, his thoughts far from the task at hand, something that he normally wouldn't do. But these weren't normal times. Without bothering to knock, the Royal Inquisitor strode into 17's room.  
  
The prince was brought up short by the sight before him. Anger the likes of which Goten had never seen before were reflected in softly glowing red eyes. Goten managed not to pale at the look of murder in 17's eyes, but after a moment, he noticed the reason for it. Trunks was sitting in the android's lap, his blue eyes as large as any prey, completely naked. Apparently, the prince had interrupted something. A purple tail unwound from where it had been wrapped around 17's wrist.  
  
For a moment, Goten looked at them, and he thought of himself and Piccolo. He grinned at the mental image, knowing that it was a bit off as Piccolo was MUCH larger than 17, but he could imagine they would fit together decently well. Clearing his throat as he dismissed the rampant thought, he gave his orders to 17 while completely ignoring Trunks. "As of tomorrow morning, you're to be re-instated as Demon Lord Piccolo's guard. He is going to be moved to Level 10, Suite B."  
  
"Sir," 17 said, his anger draining away. He kept his hands where they were, clasping Trunks' upper thighs, trying to reassure the younger male that he was there and that nothing was going to happen to him. It was only recently that Trunks was willing to overcome his body-shyness, even if it was only with him, and the android didn't want the young male to relapse into it. They had been in the middle of foreplay when Goten had interrupted them, and he could tell that even through the fear, or perhaps because of it, Trunks was still somewhat aroused. It was just as well that Goten interrupted them, 17 thought, as Trunks seemed to be especially persistent in trying to get the dark haired guard to... well, this just saved 17 from trying to find a way of not hurting the demi-saiyajin. Things just seemed to be moving so fast!  
  
"By order of my father, Demon Lord Piccolo is 'encouraged' to remain busy and 'away' from his companions," Goten smiled. "Let's keep my father happy, shall we?"  
  
"Yes, sire," 17 nodded. He watched as Goten gave him a curt nod before departing the room.  
  
"Dammit!" Trunks hissed as he turned to look at 17 again. "Don't you have a lock on that door or something?"  
  
"Or something," 17 replied with a half-grin. "My sister, the princes, and Lord Kakarrot can enter my room at any time. It is her right as my sibling, and their right as royalty."  
  
Trunks looked at the door and glared at it for a moment, as if silently commanding it to NOT open again. He felt 17 shifting, and found that the android was leaving the bed. He moved to allow the guard to do whatever it was he was going to do. Sighing, he folded his legs, raising one knee to rest his elbow on, and wrapped his purple tail around him. His lips twitched as he watched 17 move around the room, fixing them something to drink. Nothing alcoholic, though. Trunks' slight grin turned to a slight frown. It looked like he was just going to have to come out and -ask- for what he wanted.  
  
"17?" Trunks began, trying to gather his nerves.  
  
"Yes?" 17 replied, his back to the younger male. He was about to pour them two glasses of a fruity drink that they both liked.  
  
"When are we going to have sex? Real sex, I mean," Trunks asked, his face flushing with embarrassment.  
  
The pitcher was put down before any of its contents were spilt forth. 17 leaned forward, the loose strands of his dark hair falling forward to curtain him off from the rest of the world, his hands placed flat on the surface of the cabinet. "Trunks..."  
  
"I mean... Well..." Trunks stammered, more nervous than he'd ever been in his life. "I want to. With you."  
  
Synthetic blue eyes closed. 'Gods, how am I going to go through with this?' Keeping his back to the younger male, 17 queried softly, "Trunks, do you realize that I'm -not- organic?"  
  
"Yes. I know you aren't human," Trunks answered, tilting his head to the side. "But I also know that you suffer through desire just like the rest of us do."  
  
"But, unlike you, I don't feel. I don't feel pain. And I'm not all that sure I can feel pleasure either," 17 whispered. His hands clenched tightly, holding nothing. "I won't know if I'm hurting you--"  
  
"You won't," Trunks interrupted. "You won't hurt me."  
  
"There's no way to be sure until after the fact."  
  
"I trust you," Trunks stated. He wanted this. More than anything else he had ever craved, he wanted this. But at the same time, he knew that part of what was driving him was fear. Fear that 17 -would- hurt him, not so much physically but in other ways. "Please."  
  
"You may trust me, but I'm not sure that I can trust myself," the android replied. "Not with you, at least."  
  
"Why not with me?" Trunks asked, his brow furrowing in confusion, and a bit of jealousy.  
  
"Heh," 17 chuckled, still not turning around. "Because you scare the hell out of me."  
  
Trunks grinned at that, a sad, small smile. He looked at 17's back, and tried to think of a way for both of them to be happy. "If you don't trust yourself, do you trust me? I mean, you said I scare you, but there's no real reason for me to do that. You're stronger than I am. You know how to fight, and could easily take me if I did something you didn't want me to do. Yet, you haven't. So... do you trust me?"  
  
17 turned around, looking at the hybrid who still sat on his bed. "...Yes. I trust you."  
  
"Then come back to bed," Trunks suggested, ducking his head slightly. "I promise, I'll be good. It will all be good."  
  
"Trunks..." 17 sighed. Cautiously, he went over and knelt down on the bed. As soon as both knees were on the bed, Trunks was up, pressing against him, kissing him.  
  
Trunks had his arms wrapped around 17's shoulders while his tail was wrapped as far around them both as it could go. He kept his mouth slanted across his lover's, kissing him with all the passion he could find and then some. He was going to go through with this. He was. He shivered as he felt 17's hands roaming his sides, flesh to flesh. Trunks didn't care what kind of flesh it was, just as long as it was 17's.  
  
They seemed to be falling...  
  
Trunks broke the kiss, needing air, and that's when he discovered that the sensation of falling had been true. 17 was on his back, his dark hair spilling across the pillows as he looked up at Trunks. Jerking upright, Trunks was a bit confused. He had never been on top of anyone like this. What was he supposed to do? "17?"  
  
"Do what you want to, m'love. Do what you want," 17 said, tracing the curve of Trunks' jaw with a single finger.  
  
Trunks sat back, staring down into the blue eyes of the synthetic male. His tail curled up behind him, a large question mark. Trunks felt excited, yet intimidated. He was in charge. At first, he was at a loss, but then he grinned, an expression the likes of which had never crossed his features before. He knew EXACTLY what he wanted. And if he was in charge, he was going get it.  
  
The dark haired male caught his breath at the look on his lover's face. He could feel his heart beat increase, much like it did when he saw Lord Kakarrot ascend the first time. If he had normal flesh, he knew it would have prickled in anticipation of whatever idea Trunks had.  
  
Leaning down, Trunks slanted his mouth over 17's again, already planning his next move. But until then, he planned on savoring this. He moaned into the kiss as he felt 17's hands stroke through his hair, massaging his scalp, even as the kiss was returned with fervor. He broke the kiss again, breathless and dizzy, resting his forehead against 17's. He gulped in air a few times before regaining his wits enough to move on.  
  
Blue eyes closed in pleasure as 17 felt Trunks' hot mouth kissing and scraping teeth across his skin. Each sensation was separate, and unique, and felt very much as if the younger man were trying to tickle him with his tongue. He gasped slightly when Trunks began to tease his naval, surprised that such an area could feel tactile sensations. Surprised that he could feel any of this, really. He couldn't feel pain. How was it that he was able to feel this?  
  
Trunks maneuvered black sleep pants off of his lover carefully, and was grateful that 17 was willing to work with him without having to be asked to. He didn't know if he'd have been able to ask for that. He was enjoying himself, and he didn't understand why. But then, he knew he didn't -need- to understand. He simply had to savor it. When 17 was completely and utterly bare, Trunks sat back and looked at him, all of him. He let his eyes rake over 17's form, trying to memorize it all in one sitting. He had never seen 17 without -some- kind of clothing on because of his own inhibitions, and he now regretted that. "Gods, you're beautiful. Like artwork."  
  
"I was created to be perfect," 17 replied softly, deeply effected by the younger man's words. 'And he wonders why I'm afraid of him...' He had never been modest before. It was always Trunks who turned away, as if he hadn't wanted to see 17 bare. He watched with hungry eyes as Trunks crawled back up, laying flat on top of him for a moment, their heated sexes pressed between their bodies.  
  
"You are," Trunks whispered hoarsely, wondering why he was permitted this. He had done nothing in his life that he could think of to deserve this, but he was being granted it nonetheless. They fit perfectly together. Using his tail, he grabbed at the plate that was laying somewhere close to the head of the bed, right where 17 had left it -BEFORE- the were interrupted. He kissed 17 on the neck, right below the ear, before restating, "You are perfect."  
  
Trunks sat back, allowing his legs to move to straddle 17's thighs. He traced one hand from 17's throat, all the way downward. He smiled as he saw a small, tiny bead of moisture forming at the tip of the android's sex. His tail flicked a few lotion beads forward, which Trunks easily caught. He smashed them together, rubbing them slowly between his two hands. "You know, ever since that first night, where you... gods... where you told me to touch myself, I've been thinking of this. And I wondered what it would have been like if you -would- have taken me, like I was begging you to do."  
  
"Really?" 17 asked, his voice almost too soft to be called a whisper. "And what did you decide?"  
  
"Nothing," Trunks said as he used one slick hand to prepare himself, letting it trail down his body and past his own erection and hanging spheres to a place that 17 wasn't able to see. The other hand had the android's full attention, anyway, as it grabbed his aching sex in a firm grip. Trunks grinned at the sudden hiss of air that greeted his action. "It was a fantasy. One of many."  
  
17 choked on a laugh. And he thought things were happening quickly before?! His eyes narrowed slightly as Trunks began to stroke him, his smaller, paler hand moving swiftly. How had he lived this long without knowing this? His hips soon began to obey the commands given from his taskmaster, willing and eager to please. "Fantasies? Of me?"  
  
"Shh," Trunks whispered. "Just wait. There's more." Trunks was already moving to the sounds of blood rushing in his ears. He had found his inner weakness, and had dutifully begun to rub it. It was... good. And it was just another way of following his lover's earlier orders to touch himself. When he was sure that 17's shaft was well lubricated, he moved. Rising up on his knees, he placed both hands on 17's abdomen, locking his blue eyes with the blue eyes of the dark haired guard.  
  
17's back arched as a low, displeased moan was ripped out of his chest. It had felt so amazing to have trunks touching him like that. Why did he stop? He gripped Trunks' thighs, tugging at him to keep it up. And then he was embedded all the way into the demi-saiyajin, left gasping shuddering breaths under him, trying to figure out just what was going on. He could -FEEL-! And what he felt was -GOOD-! So very, very good!  
  
Trunks sat up straight, looking down at the wild, wide eyes of the royal guard. He smiled, an expression that filled his entire face. 17 looked so... shocked. And he felt so good, so perfect, where he was, filling the younger man. His tail danced behind him, weaving through the air. He grabbed at 17's wrists, allowing the android to grab at his. Catching the android's eye again, Trunks grinned and then leaned back a bit. He began to ride his lover like that, his head falling back and his long hair able to brush against 17's legs as he moved.  
  
"Trunks!" 17 cried out, the sharp sound bouncing off the walls only once. He dug his head and the heels of his feet into the giving mattress, thrusting up in anticipation of Trunks' next move. 'Gods!' 17 was aghast with wonder and awe. He had never, not even in his wildest imaginings, thought that anything could be even a fraction of what this was. He felt as if his entire body were supercharged, as if the world was already his, as if he was a God! He was aware of the tight grip that Trunks had on his arm, tighter than he'd ever imagine the demi-saiyajin capable of managing. But it didn't hurt. And even if he did somehow, manage to feel pain from it, it would have been a trivial sensation compared to the outright pleasure saturating his system.  
  
"Gods," Trunks choked out. His body moved of its own accord, but it didn't matter. All he was aware of was the feel of 17 sliding in and out of him, pleasure like he'd never known nor understood. His entire body began to tighten in anticipation of what was to come, but he kept it in check, knowing that he wanted 17 to reach climax first. With that thought, he raised his head to look at his lover, smiling at the sight before him.  
  
17's eyes were wide, and bleeding red light out. Splayed out across the pillow, his raven locks rippled with crimson reflections. His mouth was open, surprised shock. And then the red glow vanished as 17 closed his eyes, biting his lower lip to stifle his scream.  
  
Trunks felt the hot rush enter him, filling him, and in a way cleansing him of everything that he had been, turning him into something else. Trunks dropped his head back again as his own orgasm slammed into him, robbing him of everything but the sight of 17's surprised blue eyes opening again. Finally, gasping, shivering with a cold that only then made itself known, Trunks collapsed to the bed. Their bodies no longer joined, but still remaining in contact.  
  
Trunks closed his eyes as 17 began to clean him again, using the familiar red rag. When they were both cleaned off, Trunks moved to snuggle as close as he could to the other male. "Good?"  
  
"Gods, yes." 17 said. "I... I didn't know that..."  
  
"That it could be pleasurable? Neither did I. But... I think YOU were what made it good for me," Trunks yawned. "You were... perfect."  
  
"I was built to be," 17 replied automatically. He pulled Trunks closer, rubbing his hands over the younger man's still slightly sweaty skin. He was still amazed that he was able to feel that. He FELT that. All the way to his core. He was surprised that the bomb that remained inside of him hadn't gone off! "Trunks?"  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"Hmn."  
  
"For... that. For that sensation."  
  
"Mm-hmm," Trunks murmured back, already more asleep than awake.  
  
17 kissed the top of Trunks' purple-haired head, and that's when his eye caught sight of his own forearm. Rising from where it was draped over the other's back, he inspected his wrist. Bruised. It would heal before dawn, but the dark purple and blue stain over his flesh appeared to be one that he might have received while sparring with Prince Gohan, before ascension. A sign that Trunks was at least physically strong, even if he didn't know how to use it. Pushing the fact away for the moment, 17 returned to the task of rubbing his lover's back. It was infinitely more pleasing than thinking of tactics. He grinned to himself as he whispered, "I love you."  
  
Trunks' sigh was his only response.  
  
***  
  
Jeice leaned against the metal railing of a platform overlooking the departure bay, his eyes fixed on his new ship. -His- ship. Never in all his life had he ever considered he'd be made a captain and have his own ship; he'd always been more of the follower-type rather than a leader. But Captain Ginyu was dead, as was Recoom, and the Ginyu Force no longer existed. No wonder they were being split up. 'At least I get to take Burter with me,' he thought. 'I don't know what I'd do if they sent me without him.'  
  
But would they be separated if Demon Lord Piccolo had -not- won the tournament? Jeice still couldn't believe the green man had won. Part of him wondered how much more power there was contained behind the peaceful façade. The Demon Lord was a great warrior -- that much was irrefutably obvious -- but his demeanor bespoke of someone who used violence as a last measure. Shaking his head, the new captain didn't want to think on it anymore.  
  
Staring out over the bay, Jeice reminisced on his arrival at this exact moment. They'd come such a long way, hadn't they? First, to be beaten, though not killed, one by one at Lord Kakarrot's hands. Then, coming into his service once Lord Frieza had been destroyed. The Ginyu Force had become loyal, despite their dislike for the saiyajin. But they were no more. He'd known Ginyu would be killed eventually; that man had never been all that bright. However, Recoom's death had been much harder to take once they'd heard of it. Was it only four days before that Jeice had last been dining with the huge brute? Then they'd all been beaten again, only Recoom had gotten stupid. 'Ginyu must've finally worn off on him after all these years. What was he -thinking-?! He never should've tried to kill Vegeta. Even Lord Frieza wouldn't have allowed that when he was still alive. Stupid, stupid, stupid.'  
  
Then there was Burter, with whom he'd always been the best of friends, but now... Now, they were something more. They had been friends with benefits while Ginyu was in charge, as their old leader forbade them from actually having any kind of outside relationships. It was a weakness. But even after Ginyu died, Jeice found that he didn't want to go to anyone else. And miracle upon miracles, Burter felt the same way. So, their relationship changed, yet they didn't.  
  
"Is that your new vessel?" asked a voice behind him, pulling him from his reverie.  
  
Jeice turned to see the shorter, more rotund Guldo standing in the doorway. "Yeah, mate," he nodded. "Burter and I'll be leaving with our crew at sunrise in the morning."  
  
"Where are they sending you?" Guldo inquired, folding his stubby arms across his chest.  
  
"Caulengar," Jeice replied, making a sour face. Trying hard to focus on the two eyes in the middle of Guldo's face, he blinked a few times to keep his own eyes straight. For some reason the two bulbous orbs on top of Guldo's head made Jeice's sight go wonky. "Then we're patrolling."  
  
"Caulengar," Guldo repeated. "Is that the planet that smells like sweaty, filthy ass?"  
  
"Yeah, that's the one."  
  
"Purging it?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Good. That planet needs it."  
  
"It's the people, not the planet. And they'll all be gone quickly," Jeice smirked.  
  
Guldo returned his own version of a smirk. "I imagine the planet would be quite nice afterwards."  
  
"I'd like to think so." The orange-skinned male moved over to his once- brethren and laid a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry you're going to miss it."  
  
"I don't mind, actually," responded the rounder man. "I have things I need to do here."  
  
"Really?" inquired the captain. He wasn't aware that Guldo would be having much to do now, especially with the deconstruction of the Ginyu Force. He really should have been joining him and Burter. "Like what?"  
  
"Don't concern yourself with them," Guldo said quietly, almost scolding the taller warrior. No, he didn't want this to affect Jeice and Burter. It would only make things more difficult. Someone had to remain after all. Changing his tone to something nicer, but ultimately darker, he explained, "It's better if you don't know. It's safer. Don't ask."  
  
"Are you being just incredibly stupid again, mate?"  
  
"Yes," smiled Guldo. "But it's fair."  
  
Suddenly, Jeice let out a huge yawn he didn't even know he'd been holding back. "Oy, I'm tired. What time is it?" Pressing a couple of buttons on his scouter, the white-haired male nearly fell over. "Nearly 11?! Not only are we leaving in seven hours, and I haven't even packed, but it's almost curfew! The princes will flay us alive if they catch us out after curfew. I'm sorry, mate, but I gotta get back to Burter. You should get going too."  
  
Guldo watched him go, then left the area himself. He was glad he wasn't accompanying his former team members on their mission. If he were, all his planning would be for nothing, and his timing would've been ruined. But as things stood, everything was going to be fine. It was even better, in fact, now that Jeice and Burter wouldn't be around to deal with the aftermath. First, Lord Frieza. Then, Captain Ginyu. And finally, Recoom. 'The saiyajins are a pestilence on this universe. If only they could all be annihilated. No. It just needs to hurt.' Guldo grinned self-righteously as he walked towards his Level 2 room. 'Before the year is out,' he decided. 'He'll know. I'll make him remember. Lord Kakarrot should have known better than to allow the extermination of the Ginyu Force.'  
  
***  
  
Goten was exhausted. Having left his father in the medical lab early that afternoon, it was now past midnight, and he was nearly dead on his feet. His initial course of action had been to inform Jeice of his new position. Unfortunately for the prince, the smaller male practically jumped his mate Burter to 'celebrate' right in front of him. 'They didn't even wait for me to leave the room!' he thought, disgusted.  
  
After that, came the assigning of guards to his brother, just for safe measure.  
  
Then came the readying of the suites, giving orders and various directions on what was to be done. That, in any case, had gone very well. The new suites were ready. He'd stopped by to check on the progress and was very pleased at the painstaking care the servants had taken with Piccolo's room. Needless to say, he'd given them the order to be meticulous, but that didn't matter. They'd been so careful that not even the most miniscule traces of their smell lingered in the grand suite. And all the changes he'd ordered had been completed with a precision he might have envied, had it not been their jobs to be so efficient.  
  
Of course, then, he'd had to continue hunting down the guards. Vegeta's reaction had bothered the young demi-saiyajin. Was he frightened of Yamcha? It had certainly appeared that way. Sure the human was stronger than Vegeta, but... Goten could've sworn there was something between the two. There were rumors about them, but nothing the rest of the nosey masses could substantiate. Nothing even -he- could substantiate. Yet Goten had witnessed the regard Yamcha had for Vegeta. It first made itself evident when the human continued to sneak out of his room at night to visit the shorter male, which inevitably ended with Ginyu's death and Vegeta's return to guard duty. But their story didn't end there. The human had saved his -life-, for the gods' sakes! If that wasn't proof to the old saiyajin that Yamcha cared, then what would be? Maybe Vegeta was just ignorant.  
  
And 18! What the hell was wrong with her?! Goten knew she'd never -wanted- to guard Krillin, but now, she did. What had happened that made her change her tune so quickly? As far as he'd observed, Krillin wasn't fond of 18 at all. Nevertheless, 18 did seem to pursue the short human somewhat. 'Oh. Well, that makes sense now,' Goten realized. 'She wants what she can't have. Heh. She's going about it the wrong way though. You can't -force- them to want you. If Gohan can't make it happen, then neither can she. Stupid girl.'  
  
Nothing, however, had prepared him for the sight in 17's room. He hadn't known how -involved- they were. There had always been rumors, and he knew that Trunks was more or less 17's to care for and command. But, he had thought it more or less the role of default protector, or substitute father. He had known of -those- roles for the two for a long time, one of the reasons he took Trunks to go see 17 after finding him in the hall that one time. That day in the back room of the tournament waiting area had been a little strange since Goten saw them kiss, brief as it was. But he had no idea it was proceeding past that in private. And seemingly -far- past simply kissing. Trunks had been naked, after all. It occurred to him that perhaps 17 was using Trunks like many of the others had been, but an act like that appeared... beneath the android. Certainly he was better than a rapist, and Trunks did look willing. Goten shook his head. No. It had to be a relationship. And if 17 and Trunks were lucky, the rest of the palace would think what he'd thought first: that 17 was merely using the lavender- haired demi-saiyajin, and had been for some time. Nevertheless, Goten began to consider this as something useful. He could use it when the time came.  
  
Sighing to himself, Goten came to a stop outside of a familiar door. There was one last thing he had to do. Or, he didn't -have- to, but he thought that it was something that he -should- do. He savored the moment, as his entire system was flooded with a strange sensation. He felt... alive! His heartbeat increased, his blood flowed thickly, and his breathing was a bit deeper than normal. And he wasn't even through the door! Suppressing an idiotic grin, Goten rang for admittance.  
  
The door hissed open quietly, allowing the youngest prince to enter the room, before sliding just as quietly closed again. Piccolo was sitting in a lotus position in the corner, his eyes sliding open at the intrusion. He acknowledged his guest with a grin and nod, unfolding his legs so that he could stand. "Rather late for you to be up, isn't it?"  
  
"I had to come by," Goten said, a slight blush creeping across his features. He was giddy just from looking at Piccolo. "I... Well, I had a real reason to come here, something to tell you. But... It's kinda gone now."  
  
"I see," Piccolo smirked. "I take it that it's been a long day for you."  
  
"Yes, well, with your defeat of my brother... Lots of things to do," Goten grinned around a small yawn.  
  
"How is Prince Gohan doing?" Piccolo said, indicating Goten to take a seat upon the bed. When the prince was situated, he moved to sit against the headboard so that he could be close to the prince, but not too close.  
  
"Oh, he'll be in the rejuvenation chamber for another day," Goten nodded, shifting so that only one leg dangled off the bed, and his tail curled high behind him.  
  
"I wasn't aware I injured him that badly," Piccolo said softly, worried. Every time Gohan got hurt, he always got stronger. He'd have to keep an eye on the demi-saiyajin, just in case.  
  
"Neither were we. He didn't look that bad at the end of the match." Goten gave him a small smile. He ducked his head as he confessed, "By the way, I'm very glad you won."  
  
"That I won the match? I heard your cheers," noted the larger male. There was no point in informing Goten that he had used them as a form of psychological weaponry against his brother. Well, no reason of which Piccolo could think. "Why is it that you cheered for me rather than your brother?"  
  
"Heh. You realize that my brother was very favored to win, don't you?" Goten said as his tail snapping through the air behind him, a sign of his displeasure, but it quickly stilled again. "My father, in his infinite wisdom, proposed a wager with some very, very high stakes."  
  
"Oh?" Piccolo asked, his curiosity piqued. "And what did you win?"  
  
"Well, if you won," Goten explained with a huge grin, "then I wouldn't have to live up to my princely duties and deliver children to my father. So... I've got my freedom. Finally."  
  
"And what would have happened if Prince Gohan had won?" Piccolo inquired.  
  
"The opposite," Goten spoke softly, his eyes clouding with something like sorrow or regret. "I would've had to... sleep with someone my father chose. And probably with him or Gohan as an enforcer. Because it would need that."  
  
"I see," Piccolo whispered, reaching out with his hand to bring Goten's face up before gently stroking his cheek. "Well, I'm glad I won, too. I wouldn't want... Heh. I'm just glad I won."  
  
Goten literally sank into the caress, moving over to Piccolo and leaning into him, snuggling his face into the broad, green chest. Yawning wider and letting his eyes fall shut as Piccolo began to stroke his hair, he sleepily asked, "What wouldn't you want, Piccolo?"  
  
Piccolo allowed his sharp nails to scrape delicately through Goten's thick spikes as he rapidly thought of a reply to that. That thrice-damned voice was back again, whispering to him, 'Because he belongs to you, and no king or brother or anyone else in this universe is going to get in your way.' He sighed as he failed in shaking it away. He had to figure out where those thoughts were coming from, he really did. Hitting upon another idea, he replied softly, "No one should be forced to do something they don't want to do unless there's no other option. It isn't right. It isn't just."  
  
Goten sighed as he nuzzled against the larger warrior. His tail moved to lie across the backs of his legs and drape over Piccolo's. "Do you mind if I stay here? Like this. For the rest of the night. I'm not sure I'd make it to my room."  
  
Piccolo grinned before he shifted them into a more comfortable position, "Sure. You can stay. Stay for as long as you like. No one's forcing you to do anything."  
  
While Goten fell asleep against him, Piccolo allowed his mind to roam. He reflected briefly on the information that Krillin had brought to him earlier. A way home. A return to his duties. For some reason, that thought didn't bring about as much pleasure as he thought it should have. But, they had to wait for the proper opening in time and space before the window would open and allow them to leave. It had to be timed just right. As interesting as those thoughts were, they didn't hold Piccolo's interest for long.  
  
Piccolo ended up trying to figure out from where his strange thoughts were coming. They were suspiciously quiet when meditating, as if they knew that, if found, he'd tried to exorcise them. But as soon as Goten came into the room, that voice was there, saying some of the strangest things, and using his own voice! At the same time, he had to acknowledge that some of what they said was... true. Which was just way too confusing to think about while Goten was laying on his chest, breathing softly over patches of his bare flesh. Taking a deep breath, Piccolo told himself that he would have to meditate on this problem in the morning, when he could think.  
  
'We still have time, anyway.' 


	16. Choices

_Disclaimer__- We are Deani and Summer, and we will punish you! I mean, uh... No. Wrong fandom. And eww, much? Anyway, we don't own DBZ. This has been made clear in every other chapter. Seriously. This got old after the third time. Who cares?_

_Warnings__- There is all kinds of yaoi goodness in this. Yaoi, yaoi, yaoi. Lemon. Etc._

**Kingdom Come**

~ _Chapter 16_

The room's two occupants stared into the darkness as if they could actually see each other. Neither would sleep, as each was busy watching the other. They each mimicked the sounds made when asleep. They each remained as still as stone, pretending to be unconscious.

Neither was fooled.

It had been like this for a month now, silent torture through the long night hours. Vegeta had returned to his post the morning after the tournament closed, quiet and withdrawn. He had lead the way to Yamcha's new room, and had stood by as Yamcha investigated it. There was an entertainment area, a bathroom with a tub and a shower, and a bedroom. They had both taken silent observance that Vegeta's bed rested beside the door inside the large bedroom. Silent as a shadow, he began to follow his charge, never moving up to approach him. He spoke only when spoken to. His eyes were usually cast down or watching the area they were in. Unless of course, he knew that Yamcha wasn't looking at him, in which case there was nowhere else that Vegeta would look except at the human. He kept waiting for that moment, the moment that Yamcha would spin around and demand his rights as the stronger warrior. It was a terrifying way to exist, constantly on guard, but at the same time, Vegeta knew that he wouldn't mind it. Yamcha had been kind to him so far, had done things for him that no one else would have thought of, had obeyed him when he really didn't need to. The scarred warrior could have killed him that night, and no one would have cared all that much. Well, Lord Kakarrot -might- have, but that was one person whom Vegeta -didn't- want to 'care' about him.

Vegeta watched through the night, fantasies playing out in his head of what might have been. What could have been. What would never be. He had been doing this since his return to duty, and it was beginning to wear him down. It was difficult, sleeping in the same room as the human, and not being able to share the same bed again. His need to hold the human through the night was a double-edged blade, cutting him with fear for what might happen should he be called to the bed. Holding Yamcha again wasn't nearly all that he wanted, but it was something. '_Gods, am I so pathetic as to beg to simply crawl into his bed to touch him? Yes. Dammit, yes, I am that damn pathetic. But what if I did go over there? What if... He's awake, watching me. I wonder what he's thinking. Does he think that since he's stronger than me, he can take me? Hell, he wouldn't be the first. But he has the power to do more than simply hurt my body. Gods. This is torture._' His tail curled around his leg, a way to reassure himself even though he only felt it through his pants.

"Vegeta," Yamcha called out. He knew the prince was awake, just as he was. He was tired of this late night game, though. Tired of the strange dance in which he found himself, where Vegeta would pull him close and then push him away. He had thought that given enough time, Vegeta would make another move: either to further push him away and out of reach, or to pull him closer so that they could... So far, though, no such move had been made. To say that it was frustrating would be an understatement. When Vegeta didn't answer, Yamcha spoke again. "Vegeta, I know you're awake. Answer me."

"Yes," Vegeta replied quietly, as was his usual tone of voice when around only his charge. He wished he could actually see the human, instead of a dark outline against a dark room.

"Would you like to join me?" Yamcha asked, his eyes closed, as he cursed himself for being the fool that everyone already knew he was. He hated how desperate he sounded, but he needed to know.

"Why?" Vegeta asked immediately, softly. '_So that you can hurt me? Overpower me, and take me as if I were trash? Take me as if I were my son? Thanks, I'll pass on that bit of torture. I've been through enough of it as it is._'

"Well, I could lie and say that I'm cold, but as this place is kept at a rather constant temperature, we both know that wouldn't work," Yamcha said tiredly into the darkness. "So, let's try: Because I want you over here."

Vegeta nearly began to cry, but he wasn't sure if it was from relief or from fear. '_I'm too old for this._' He grabbed his pillow and walked over to the far side of the bed. Instead of lying down, however, he clutched his pillow to him and asked, "Are you going to hurt me?"

"What?" Yamcha asked, sitting up in bed and facing from where Vegeta's voice was coming.

"I know you have the strength. I've seen you use some of your power. And I remember you saying that you could probably hold your own against Lord Kakarrot, something that I didn't believe at the time, but I do now," Vegeta explained. "I know that I blackmailed you into performing for me, but that was before I truly understood. I... want to apologize for what I did," Vegeta choked out. After a moment's pause, he continued. "So, are you finally going to seek retribution?"

Yamcha tried to gather his thought processes, tried to think of something to reassure the shorter male, but he didn't get the opportunity.

"You wouldn't be the first person to seek retribution, you know. I've been taken before." With each passing heartbeat, Vegeta became a bit more anxious, a bit more afraid. He had put a lot of thought into this, and he didn't want to stop until he had said it all. Behind him, his tail hung low, sweeping over the ground. He turned his head to face where he knew a nearby wall was. His voice was harsh as he rasped out his nightmarish truth. "Several times. Sometimes... well, sometimes, I deserved it. I overstepped myself. Did or said something that I shouldn't have. Sometimes I didn't. Someone used me to show their dominance to others. But I was still taken. On the ground. Against a wall. In the showers. In the middle of the cafeteria. It didn't matter to them. It has never mattered to anyone. And I was only physically hurt enough to ensure obedience, nothing that would allow me to tempt death. Nothing that would allow me to grow stronger. Much like my son. If I had... well, I'd probably be as strong as you by now. And I wouldn't have to ask... Are you going to hurt me?"

"No," Yamcha whispered thickly. He hated this fucking world. Hated it with such a passion as to border on obsession. He tossed the covers down on the other side of the bed, inviting the saiyajin in. "I promise, no matter what else happens, I won't hurt you knowingly."

Vegeta nodded his head in acceptance and crawled into the bed. He pulled the covers up over him even as his tail curled up high behind him. When Yamcha made no move towards him, his anxiety increased. "Are you going to..." Vegeta started, but found he couldn't quite get out all the proper words through the slight crack in his voice. He pushed forward anyway. "Are you going to tonight, or are you going to make me suffer, wondering when its going to come? Wondering when and where and how."

"Vegeta..." Yamcha began, peering through the darkness. "What makes you think I want to take you?"

"You... don't want me?" Vegeta asked, his eyes flying wide in the darkness. He cursed himself as an idiot, hating himself for how foolish he had been. Yamcha didn't want him! He was nearly on his knees, throwing himself at the human, and Yamcha didn't even want him.

"I didn't say that," Yamcha said quickly. He tried to continue, but Vegeta cut him off again.

"Then take your retribution. Even if you're still pretending that I'm that other Vegeta," Vegeta whispered. He closed his eyes, silently begging it to already be over, and for familiar rules to be in place again.

"You aren't the -other- Vegeta, and I wouldn't want you to be. I prefer -you-." Yamcha's thoughts raced as he tried to think of a good way to explain that he didn't want to dominate the other male. "I don't want to hurt you."

"I can take it. Just... don't prolong the waiting. That's by far the worst part," Vegeta said. He felt so small at that moment. Smaller than he had felt in a long time. And weak. His entire body trembled; partly with fear, and partly with the need to reach out and touch the human, begging for forgiveness and acceptance.

"You know..." Yamcha sighed. "You're very stubborn. I think it's a core personality trait, or something genetic."

To that Vegeta had nothing to say. His breathing increased as he felt the bed shift, indicating Yamcha was getting out. "Where are you going?"

"Bathroom. I'm going to get something. Do you want anything?"

Vegeta raised his eyebrow at that, but said nothing. He easily stripped out of his pants, tossing them noisily to the wall. He remained where he was, waiting for the inevitable. He turned away as Yamcha flipped on the blinding light, but he listened as the human rummaged for something. Then the light was off and darkness returned. The bed dipped again as Yamcha returned. Vegeta held his breath for what was to occur, tension radiating off of him.

"Vegeta," Yamcha said as he closed the distance between them. "I want you to remember what I said. I will not hurt you knowingly."

"So you say, human. But I've been here far longer than you, and I know that pledges such as those are not as easily kept as they are said," Vegeta whispered. He watched the darkness, waiting for the next move. He couldn't help jumping at the first touch, as Yamcha searched the darkness for him.

Yamcha closed the distance between himself and the trembling tailed man. He laid down beside Vegeta, pausing before he continued. He thought, briefly, that nothing should be this hard, especially this. He pushed that aside, though, and continued. He didn't want to top the other male, as he didn't really see that as his place. But he would. And he'd make damn sure that Vegeta liked it, and didn't think of retribution or revenge or anything else of that matter.

Vegeta was unprepared for the soft brush of lips, but he immediately, obediently opened his mouth. He allowed his eyes to fall half shut in the darkness as Yamcha sealed their lips together. He had thought to simply allow the human to take whatever he wanted, offering nothing of himself in the process so as he couldn't be hurt later, but as Yamcha deepened the kiss, the saiyajin found that he couldn't remain unresponsive. He began to kiss back, to taste the more than willing mouth above him. Hesitantly, he reached up and cupped Yamcha's face before wrapping his arms around the scarred warriors shoulders. 

Yamcha moved one hand to skim over the shorter male's figure, knowing where he was ultimately going to end up touching. The other arm was used to brace himself above the saiyajin. Along the way, he plucked at the submissive male's nipples, before caressing the area more delicately. He felt Vegeta's shivering in response, and felt the shorter male's arousal growing and digging into his hip. He ran his thumb across the muscles on the ex-prince's side, grinning at the whimper that greeted his action. Grabbing Vegeta's hip to tilt him to the side, Yamcha made sure to touch as much skin, massaging where he could, before roughly sliding his hand around to cup the base of Vegeta's tail. He was rewarded with Vegeta's muffled, shocked cry, and the tail pressing down and not allowing him to stroke that very sensitive spot. But his thumb was still pressed against the velvet skin, and Yamcha knew that even with it trapped, he could still maneuver it somewhat.

Vegeta gasped loudly as Yamcha broke the kiss, needing more air than his lungs could possibly take in at one time. He turned his head to the side, exposing his throat to Yamcha, though the human only wanted to rain hot, open-mouthed kisses along the bare flesh. He didn't understand what Yamcha was up to, but he found himself already hard and aching. His body was demanding he thrust forward, but he knew if he did that, it would allow the human the opportunity to exploit the skin at the base of his tail. It seemed that the inability to see only heightened the sensation from each touch and caress. Vegeta hissed as he felt Yamcha's teeth clamp onto his earlobe.

"I get to take you, right?" Yamcha asked playfully soft, his voice a masculine purr.

"Yes." Vegeta shivered before finally giving in to his body's need to thrust forward, but only once. He choked as he felt Yamcha's finger sliding against his skin, but not so much as to slide away. "Any way you want."

"Any ideas?" Yamcha asked, wondering if Vegeta could guess what he was wanting. The answer given would also tell what Vegeta wanted, and what the shorter male would get.

Not really thinking that clearly, Vegeta assumed that the human wanted to know how the others had taken him, so that he'd know what was expected of him. "Inside me."

"All right." Yamcha replied. "But first…"

Vegeta used one hand to grab the forearm down around his waist. With his free hand, he entangled his fingers into Yamcha's short, raven spikes of hair. The older male yelped softly as he felt Yamcha shift his attention. Teeth and tongue and lips began to pluck and taste and torment his nipples, teasing them. First one, then the other. Vegeta lifted one knee, beginning to writhe against the mattress at his back, but his traitorous tail caught his ankle and pulled, bringing his leg up. 

Yamcha shifted so that he was lying between Vegeta's knees. He raised himself to grab what he had brought with him from the bathroom. Awkward and blind, using one hand as he was loathe to remove the other where it was from Vegeta's tail, he managed to get lubricant onto his hand. He tossed the empty container to the ground. And then Yamcha leaned back down.

Vegeta's low moan of pleasure filled the room. His eyes threatened to roll back in his head as he felt Yamcha's mouth kissing the tip of his sex. And the tongue that brushed over him was murder to his sanity. He spread his legs further, cradling Yamcha's shoulders. His fist tightened in dark hair as Yamcha began to deep throat him again, pleasuring him again. His short, raspy breaths filled the room with sound, each one in time with Yamcha's quick movements. He thought he was going to die from the feel of the hot mouth sucking on him, pulling forth everything that was in him, trying to drink his soul. Through the pleasure, he was only dimly aware of the fingers that entered him, stretching him. 

Yamcha smiled around his mouthful as he found Vegeta's prostate. He knew he found it because the shorter male let out a cry the likes of which he'd never heard before, bucking upwards into his mouth. And though he'd never been very good at multi-tasking before, he found that he was quite capable of rubbing Vegeta's tail, teasing the shorter male's prostate, and devouring his shaft.

Vegeta was mindless with need. With hunger. His hips were bucking, twisting, moving of their own accord. Dark skin was bejeweled with beads of sweat from exertion, and Vegeta's labored breathing told of a hard workout. He was quickly becoming overwhelmed with the sensations, and he could feel his orgasm approaching him like a tornado in the distance. Faster than he thought possible, Vegeta was moaning his release.

Yamcha felt Vegeta's body tighten and then fall back to the bed, relaxed and pliant, even as he accepted the briny substance that washed into him with his own soft moan. Making sure that none of the prince's seed spilt, he began to kiss his way back up to whisper into the saiyajin's ear. He kept his fingers moving, though, letting the shorter male know that it wasn't over yet. "Vegeta?"

A low moan was all with which Vegeta could respond, his mind numb from the sensations still ravaging his body.

"Heh," Yamcha chuckled, sounding all too pleased with himself. "I take it that I did good."

"Gods," Vegeta breathed slowly, regretfully untangling his hand from Yamcha's hair. It fell heavily to the bed beside him.

"Remember. I don't want to hurt you. Tell me if I hurt you," Yamcha said, all laughter gone.

"Yeah. Sure," Vegeta replied, enjoying himself. Enjoying what Yamcha was doing to him. And then he was moaning his displeasure as the fingers left him, leaving him feeling a bit empty and hollow and abandoned. He allowed Yamcha to lift up his legs, positioning him. There was the dulled spike of fear, a hazy memory, as he felt the tip of Yamcha's sex waiting at his entrance. But it didn't last, as he listened to Yamcha's voice whispering unintelligibly to him. He bit his lower lip to stifle his groan as his lover pushed forward slowly. Slowly. Agonizingly slowly. Vegeta was sure he was going to stark raving mad before Yamcha was done, but he wasn't able to actually find the words to demand anything. Actually, he wasn't able to find any words.

When he was finally completely inside, Yamcha released his breath, his entire body trembling. He leaned down, his forehead pressing against Vegeta's forehead, as he tried to catch his breath. He felt the prince moving under him and then he felt weakened legs wrap around his torso, allowing him to sink even further in. It was all the invitation that Yamcha needed to start moving, one arm bracing his weight off the other male, while the other hand returned to continued massaging that one area of Vegeta's tail. 

Vegeta moaned, all semblance of vocabulary gone. He didn't understand his lover's languid, excruciatingly slow movements, but they were making him aroused all over again. He raised his arms so that he could grip Yamcha's shoulders, kneading them with need. He forced his tail to obey one command, just one, and was pleased when it wrapped around Yamcha's upper thigh so that its furry tip brushed the back of the human's scrotum. He had never been taken like this. Never. The closest that anything came to this was when he took someone else, wanting them to want him in return; he would do his best to cause them pleasure. But that was different. This was the first time he was willingly a submissive, and the first time he was enjoying himself in a sex act in a long time. He opened his mouth, trying to say something, but all that came out were strange gasping noises. 

Yamcha moved to slant his mouth over his princes, kissing him soundly, robbing him of sanity. He kept the slow pace, though. When he broke the kiss, in need of oxygen, he began to murmur in the prince's ear. "You feel good, you know that? Taste better, though. I love how you feel, trembling and musky, sliding in my mouth. Like those strange sounds you make when you're near orgasm."

"Yamcha, shut up," Vegeta groaned, finding his voice at last, grateful that he was allowed to speak as he wouldn't know what he would do if he weren't. "If you don't, I'm going to come again, and that'll -kill- me."

Yamcha's laugh was one of pure masculinity, one that Vegeta would have admired under different circumstances. "But Vegeta... I just wanted to tell you the truth. You do feel good. But ya know what? You'd feel better inside of me. Moving as hard as you wanted to, making those come-eat-me, come-fuck-me noises. They're a turn on in themselves."

Vegeta hissed in response, tightening his thighs. "Gods, shut up! Less talk, more action."

Yamcha grinned, beginning to pick up the tempo. He preferred making love, slow and passionate. But he was never one to turn down a lover's request. "I just want to know... What's your preferred position?"

"Damn, you talk a lot during sex," Vegeta gasped. "I don't know, what's your favorite?"

"You're pretty vocal too, only not with words. I like that. It's good. My favorite position?" Yamcha grinned. "Well, it really depends upon who I'm with."

"With me?" Vegeta asked through a whimpering moan. How could the man talk and... still manage to keep going so slowly?

"With you? I would -love- every position," Yamcha promised. 

Vegeta's shattered cry echoed in the small room.

Soon, both their bodies were covered with dripping sweat as they struggled towards that final goal. Their bodies moved in quick, hard thrusts against each other, demanding more than they'd ever thought to need. Vegeta was the first to break under the heated conditions, as his resolve was already cracked from his first climax. His neck arched as he cried out, his entire body tightening. He could hear Yamcha laughing as nails dug into the skin of already scarred shoulders. Lights like he had never seen blinded him in the darkness. 

When his mind and body finally returned to the same time and space, Vegeta found that he was alone in the bed. He tried to move, but his body was the next best thing to liquid metal. He opened his eyes to discover the bathroom light was on, and a sated Yamcha was walking towards the bed, something in his hand. Vegeta closed his eyes for only a moment, but it was more than enough time for the human to walk around the bed and sit down. Vegeta began to purr as he felt the heated, wet rag wash over his bare body. The next thing he knew, Yamcha was curling up around him, back on his side of the bed. The prince had never been more content, more filled, more... pleased than he was at that moment. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Yamcha yawned as he snuggled closer to the shorter male, draping one leg over the prince. After a while, he added, "Next time... you top."

Vegeta heard, but he didn't have the strength to respond. Which was just as well as Yamcha was already unconscious. 

***

Goten straightened his shirt as he left his room, his tail wrapped securely and professionally around him. A month, a whole -month-, had passed since Piccolo had been moved just down the hall from him, and he'd barely seen the larger male for more than a handful of minutes here and there. It was pissing him off. And yet another morning had arrived without him having seen the Demon Lord in days. Goten was determined that this morning would be different.

Moving down the hall, the prince noticed 17 standing outside of Piccolo's room, his back to the door. His face lit with the smallest traces of a smile; he was convinced that an opportunity had presented itself to him, and he had to seize it. Ever since Lord Kakarrot had decreed the guards were to be reinstated, and he'd discovered the relationship between the android and the Palace Ghost, Goten had steadily been building a plan in the back of his mind, especially since he hadn't been able to see Piccolo. And that was really the point of all this, wasn't it? To spend time with the one person whom he actually -wanted- to be near.

"Good morning, 17," greeted the demi-saiyajin, bowing his head slightly.

The raven-haired android raised an eyebrow but returned the gesture. "Good morning, Prince Goten."

"I don't see our guest," the prince commented. "You're not neglecting your duties, are you?"

"The Demon Lord is bathing. I felt to give him complete privacy, rather than to wait in the parlor." 17 coolly observed the royal. Despite the changes he'd seen in some of Goten's behavior, especially with regards to Piccolo, he remained suspicious of the younger man. "Is there something with which I might assist you?"

"Perhaps," Goten said, tilting his head to one side and eyeing the android. "I would like to ask you something. Since you have relocated here with Demon Lord Piccolo, have you had any time to yourself?"

"I have not," answered the android. "It is my duty to guard Piccolo at all times. I would not be remiss in this."

"So, then, you haven't seen Trunks?"

17 froze. He would not discuss the lavender-haired demi-saiyajin with Goten, no matter the casualness of the questions. But maybe this question would be safe enough... "I have not."

"Wouldn't you like to?" the prince inquired. There it was again, that stillness that only came with death. Goten always felt unnerved when the android would grow still like that. Well, he wasn't going to allow this. He was certain of the relationship between 17 and Trunks, but if 17 wouldn't even acknowledge that, then how would he be able to continue with his plan? Convincing himself to pursue the topic, he decided he'd have to provoke the artificial being, if only to get a response. "You love him... Don't you..."

To that, 17 had nothing to say. He wouldn't be baited by the young prince. He wouldn't. But he couldn't help the flashing in his pale blue eyes at the statement he knew to be true.

"You must love him. He's a nobody... to everybody else. But I saw the way you... held him. The way your eyes flashed when I entered the room, ready to kill me before you even knew who I was. Something that only happens when you are in the grip of a truly strong emotion. Something that is so rare with you." Smirking, Goten chose to push the bar a little further, keeping his voice level and cold. "But then again... maybe not. Maybe you just like to fuck him like most everyone else. Like Recoom did. Or Ginyu. Or Nappa. Or... my brother."

A sharp snarl escaped the android's lips. With his fists clenched tightly at his side, 17 denoted, with very crisp words, everything on his mind. "Trunks is mine. If I find anyone, including your brother, touching him, there will come a reckoning the likes of which this empire has NEVER seen. And it will -never- recover." Breathing deeply, 17 calmed a bit, his anger cooling and his reason once again taking control. Learning to control himself was a lesson he learned long ago, and it was one of the reasons he was still in his position. "From where is this really coming, hmm? Could it be that your twisted mind has to come attack me because you yourself have not been able to see the one whom -you- desire? Don't think it escaped my notice. Oh, yes. I -know-. You may have been able to fool the rest of the world, but I can see as plain as day your regard for Demon Lord Piccolo." 17 forced a frightening smile. Throwing the prince's own words back in his face, he said, "You love him... Don't you."

Goten paled considerably, his tail tightening around his waist. While he'd gotten the answer he'd been seeking, he also received far more than for which he'd bargained. How had 17 known? No one ever saw him and Piccolo together. Was the android really that intuitive? '_But he's just a machine!_' Swallowing the huge lump in his throat, the demi-saiyajin curved his lips into a strained smile and chose not to answer other male's implied question. "I have a proposition for you."

17's eyes narrowed. "I'm listening."

"Half an hour past curfew, you may leave to go to your room. To have that... free time I know you desire. And you will be back half an hour before your relief guard arrives."

"And I suppose you will be... 'guarding' Piccolo."

"Yes." Goten took a step back. "We each get what we want."

The android folded his arms across his chest. "What's the catch?"

"Tell no one of our deal," stated the prince. "And don't get caught. There is no other... catch."

"And what about Piccolo?" 17 asked. "Doesn't he get a say in this? What if he doesn't approve?"

Pausing, Goten considered these words. It hadn't even occurred to him that Piccolo might not want him to visit. True, they had not seen each other much in the past month, but... That wouldn't change things, would it? Piccolo had said things wouldn't change. Hadn't he promised? His dark eyes widened slightly as he felt something low in his stomach rising to his throat.

17 was suddenly taken aback by the panic that sprung up in the prince's unfocused eyes. Cursing at Goten hadn't affected the demi-saiyajin, but mentioning Piccolo's potential disapproval had. Somehow, that hadn't felt right to the android. He almost felt bad for the prince. If he had not been fully convinced before, he felt certain then that Goten was in love with Piccolo. '_Deep down, he really is just a scared little boy, isn't he?_' For him to be so scared of rejection... There could be no other answer. "I doubt he will have any problems with it," 17 attempted to reassure, taking pity on the prince. "But I will ask. Subtly."

Goten's eyes cleared, and he could do no more than nod, quickly turning and nearly running down the hallway away from 17. His tail was only slightly looser than it was while talking with the android, but it was far tighter than he cared for it to be.

The dark-haired guard watched the prince disappear around the corner, and toward the rest of the palace. Shaking his head only slightly, not so that his raven ponytail would actually move, he leaned back against the side of the door. It was obvious that Goten wanted Piccolo, and he had suspicions that the affection was returned. Grinning, 17 thought that perhaps he could play a bit with this. He and Piccolo had formed a strange sort of friendship, a true friendship, like one he would have with an equal, though he knew he was by far weaker in physical strength than the green man. It was strange, and not something that he would want to damage. But that wouldn't stop him from doing a bit of digging, and perhaps a bit of teasing.

Beside the guard, the door softly hissed its opening, and the suite's occupant stepped out into the hallway. "Good morning 17," Piccolo greeted.

"Good morning, Piccolo," 17 returned. "Where to? Breakfast? A spar?"

"Spar," came the quick answer. He was getting agitated and bored, and his usual mediations weren't helping him. Partly to blame was the fact that when he did meditate, the topic of choice upon which to reflect was his insane inner voice that continued to goad him into strange behavior. A little physical action might take his mind off of his inner turmoil, and clear it enough to begin meditation properly.

"This way, then." Moving steadily down the hall towards the lift, 17 stole glances at his charge. He wanted to breach the topic of the 'deal' Prince Goten had offered, but he still wanted it to be subtle. Maybe he'd just... beat around the bush a bit. Stepping into the lift after Piccolo, he made his move. "Would it be impertinent of me to ask you a few questions?"

"You may ask," the taller male offered. The idea that 17 would ask to ask questions got his attention. Usually his guard was right there with a quick observation, or an explanation of something.

"Has your opinion of Prince Goten changed since your arrival here seven months ago?" The motor to the lift sang softly as they descended the levels. Sure, they both could have flown to the sparring grounds, but that would have been a much shorter trip. He had orders to keep Piccolo busy, and if that meant taking the scenic route, 17 didn't mind. And it wasn't as if Piccolo ever lodged a complaint or anything.

"Yes," Piccolo said, looking at the android out of the corner of his eye. He wondered to where -this- line of questioning might lead but wasn't going to hazard a guess. He was afraid it would end up being just as disturbing as his meditating.

"And has it changed again in the past month since the tournament?"

"No. Why do you ask?" Piccolo asked, turning to face his android guard fully.

"It's just that before the tournament, you and the prince spent a considerable amount of time in each other's company. But since the tournament, you haven't seen each other hardly at all, let alone spent any time together. I wondered why that is," the blue-eyed male remarked, getting closer to broaching the subject that had led him on this path. Well, one of the subjects. It was also entertaining to see how guarded Piccolo could become over a small conversation such as the one they were sharing.

"Lack of opportunity, I suppose."

"I see," 17 answered. Grinning, he tilted his head to the side to ask, "And... Would you welcome the opportunity?"

"May I ask to what this line of questioning is pertaining?" Piccolo retorted, more than slightly suspicious. It was almost as if 17 were trying to make a deal with him, and he wasn't sure of all the fine print.

"I am merely... curious. You seemed to hold Prince Goten in high regard, and then all visitations between you to stopped. I thought that perhaps you two had a... spat, much like a lover's spat," the android shrugged.

"WHAT?!" Piccolo shouted.

Snagging a page from his earlier conversation with Prince Goten, 17 pressed on. "I've noticed. The way you look at each other. How you look at each other when you think the other isn't looking. How you stand closer than is really necessary. There's a certain... How shall I put this? A certain emotional connection."

"Perhaps you're confusing Prince Goten and myself with yourself and Trunks," Piccolo tossed back at the android.

17 stiffened, his lips tightening into a firm line. Finally, he huffed, "At least we're not drowning in denial. Like some people I might mention."

"I don't know what you mean," the larger man stated, crossing his arms defensively, obviously unnerved by the conversation. "There's nothing to deny."

"You do realize that you are denying being in denial, don't you?" 17 smirked with one upraised eyebrow. When his only response was a dark glare from the taller man, the android couldn't help but laugh a bit. "Well, I guess since there's no -reason- for you to -want- to see Prince Goten, I shall have to make sure that your two paths don't cross. It's just a shame, though."

"Oh?" Piccolo said, noticing that the lift had stopped and was waiting for them to actually approach the doors.

"Yeah. I'd have had someone with whom to compare notes," 17 grinned. Sobering slightly, he allowed a bit of the cooler guard that he was to leak out of him. He doubted he'd ever really -like- Goten, especially after all the younger male did to Trunks, but he did like Piccolo. He respected the man, not just as a fighter, but also for his mere presence. People like that hadn't come around often in 17's lifetime, so he rather thought that they might have been rare. Rarities had to be treasured, protected, and cared for. That, however, didn't stop him from also having the desire to yank Piccolo's chain a bit. "But, also, I think you two would do well with each other. And do well -for- each other."

"Like you and Trunks," Piccolo noted, very uncomfortable with where this was leading, yet at the same time, masochistically pursuing it.

"Heh. Trunks and I have several advantages over you and Prince Goten," 17 said smugly. When Piccolo raised an eyebrow ridge as if in inquiry, he explained, "We're both intelligent enough to recognize the fact that we are in love with each other, and to cherish the emotion for what it is. A rare gift."

Piccolo opened his mouth to reply, but 17 was already signaling the door to open. He knew that their conversation wasn't for an audience, and he knew that it was going to haunt him. Along the short walk to the sparring area, he began to think about what 17 said and considered how he felt for the young prince. The android had been hinting at being in love. Love? Was that what he felt for Goten?

Reflecting upon his past, he thought he knew what love was, or at least he knew what love could be like. But weren't there many levels and ways of loving a person? He only knew of love from the Gohan of his world, and that was similar to this. Yet, his feelings for Goten extended even deeper. There was an intensity and passion between them that hadn't been truly explored with Gohan. Could there have been? Piccolo really wasn't sure he wanted to know. But now he had a name for that nagging, confusing emotion he'd been feeling. He was in love with Goten.

Piccolo didn't mind putting his perplexity to good use in aggression towards the android during their sparring match, sparing only enough attention to avoid injury. But then, 17 began to speak again, his voice just loud enough for no one but Piccolo to hear. "You should feel privileged, you know. Prince Goten has never favored anyone. -Ever-. Yet he favors you. It's a great honor. To be favored by someone who cares for no one."

"Are we still talking about this?" the green male grunted as he blocked his opponent's punches. He didn't really want to hear any more on the subject, since he was confused as it was. Nevertheless, it pleased him to hear about Goten's regard for him. Certainly he knew the demi-saiyajin was interested in him and attracted to him, but hearing that it went deeper... That was very satisfying. And he trusted the android's observations. "I thought we were done."

"Not yet," smirked 17. He took personal gratification in the fact that he'd gotten under Piccolo's skin a bit with the talk about Prince Goten and 'feelings'. That meant there was hope for them yet. "Can you deny he favors you?"

"No," Piccolo said, throwing another hit at the android, making sure not to use all of his strength, as he didn't want to harm 17 too much. Though it was tempting, if only to block what was surely going to be a very revealing conversation.

"Yet you will deny you favor him as well?" 17 asked, making sure to stay out of the way of an incoming fist. If the sound that each blow made snapping through the air was any indication, Piccolo was increasing the strength behind each of his attacks.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore," Piccolo answered, his eyes narrowing dangerously, trying to threaten the android off enough so that he wouldn't have to admit to anything. Aloud. He already had suspicions. He didn't want to have to confirm someone else's before he thought some more.

"Why? Does it bother you? Can't face your emotions?" 17 smirked, knowing that he was pushing Piccolo, and enjoying it. Piccolo wasn't easily riled, and in fact, this was one of the first times that the dark-haired guard could think of that had Piccolo at this emotional level.

"Careful, 17," Piccolo warned. "I'm not above smashing you into the ground."

"Are you afraid?" 17 queried softly, partly joking, partly serious. It was a loaded question.

"I'm not afraid of you," Piccolo hissed, throwing a small chi attack at the evasive android. It hit the dark- haired male on the upper arm, burning through the material. He thought, ever so briefly, of showing exactly how powerful he was, and that there was nothing in this realm of which he was afraid, but he realized just as quickly that an act such as that would do nothing but cause harm.

"But you're afraid of how you feel. What a pity, hmm?" 17 grinned as he charged forward, taking a small amount of satisfaction from making the larger male back up a step.

"Cut it out!" Piccolo chided, or at least tried to. It didn't sound nearly as commanding as it could have, as it should have, to Piccolo's ears. And, in fact, sounded almost as if he were pouting.

"No, thanks. I'm having fun now." 17 ducked, narrowly avoiding a kick that very well may have taken off his head. Spinning out of the way, he floated a few feet just out of reaching distance from Piccolo. He shook his head mockingly. "Really, Piccolo. This petulance doesn't become you."

"What do you want me to say? Will that shut you up?"

"I promise to drop the subject if you answer one last question."

"Spit it out."

"Do you want to see him? You know who I mean."

That gave the green fighter pause. His immediate, gut reaction was a definite affirmative. But Piccolo tried not to act on impulse too often, especially in an area where he was unsure of himself and of his stability. Caution was called for. However, as much as he thought that it would be prudent to remain careful, he couldn't suppress the electric thrill that raced up his spine at the thought of seeing Goten again. Carefully, he tilted his head as he gazed at the android, and replied slowly, "Yes."

"That's all I wanted to know. Thank you for your cooperation. Now, shall we continue?" 17 chirped as he fell into a defensive stance again. 

But Piccolo was no longer interested in sparring. "That's enough for today."

"But it's been barely half an hour," 17 half-heartedly protested. "You usually last much, much longer than this."

"I'm no longer... entertained," came the sharp reply.

"Very well." The android moved out of the sparring ring, heading back towards the palace. "Would you like to go to the East Garden now to meditate?"

"No."

"Well, then, what do you want to do?" 17 inquired.

Piccolo's eyebrow ridges drew downward. He wanted information, but how to get it? And his topic was definitely on the sensitive side. He certainly couldn't just openly discuss it. He -could- ask 17, but... No. The android had teased him enough for the day. '_Gohan studied a lot. Too much, really. Where did he go?_' he thought. Book store? Something like that. -Library-. "Does the palace have a library?"

"You want to read?" The raven-haired male scoffed. "Talk about -dull-."

"Study."

That got the android's attention. Very few people actually studied around the palace. Plus, knowledge was power, and Piccolo was already powerful enough. "May I inquire as to your topic of study?"

"You may not."

17 smirked. "Very well, then. Shall we return to your suite? You can access any information files you wish from the console there." As they entered the lift, the android continued to pry ever so slightly. "Are you very technologically adept?"

"Not 'very'," answered the taller male, "but well enough to get around."

"I'll assist you with getting started," 17 offered, taking Piccolo's nod as acceptance.

Once 17 had pointed out how to use the console and access general files, he left Piccolo to 'study' on his own. But not before taking a quick peek at the screen. The guard was very glad that he was already on his way out the door, as he knew he wouldn't be able to contain the large smile that spread across his face at the topic under observation. He had to laugh at the larger warrior's... secrecy. It was comical, in a sweet sort of way. He knew Mistress Bulma would've gotten a giggle out of it, if he told her, which he wouldn't. And neither would Trunks. This was between Piccolo and Goten, and him and Trunks. '_Well, I'll get to spend more time, more nights, with Trunks. Which is worth a little bit of tongue-biting._'

***

Vegeta stared down at the hungry mass of people below him. He knew that they were now his livelihood, now that Bulma finally gotten tired of the charade of couple-dom that they had both endured for this long. It wasn't that they didn't have an attachment to each other, but... sometimes that wasn't enough to make them tolerate each other. So, in the end, she had given him a sizable amount of money and set him up in a condominium. 

He had taken the money, and after the first day where he was left wondering what the hell he was going to do with it, had decided to invest it. But, rather than buying a house for himself, he bought a nightclub. Granted, when he first bought it all those months ago, it was rather disgraceful. But it was all he could afford. After the place was officially his, he began to remodel, actually building something after a lifetime spent destroying things. It was a... strange experience for him. When it came closer to time for him to open his, -HIS-, nightclub, he found that 18 was there, pestering him about trivial things like napkins, and waitresses, and licenses, and a load of other nitpicky things; things that only she would think of since she had so much time on her hands with her husband missing. So, just to shut her up, he hired her as a manager. Strangely enough, she accepted the position, and they both found that she did a remarkable job at running the place. She had even gotten her brother, 17, to be a disc jockey. 

Vegeta smirked as he raised his glass to his lips, glancing at the napkin it had been resting on. In stylized red ink, the name of his club splashed across white, "Vegeta-Sei". He was ruler here, for as far as the eye could see. Over the door, the royal symbol of his house blazed in red neon. After opening day, that door had yet to close. It seemed that his son, and his son's lover, were very good about spreading the word about his place. The prince's eyes easily caught said youths on the dance floor, barely keeping things clean. He had already reprimanded both Trunks and Goten for nearly causing a scene before. He'd do it again if he had to. Sighing, Vegeta put down his glass. It was late, and there was no real reason for him to be there, other than the fact that he didn't want to go home. 

The condo that Bulma had set him up in... belonged to someone else. Flatly put, she had set him up as a house-sitter. Very embarrassing and degrading. Nine o'clock every morning, he was watering plants. It was a nice home, definitely a place in which he could get accustomed to living. But, the fact that Bulma had set him up in the home of one of her ex-lovers until his return, that was what had originally bothered the prince. Originally. Things had gotten complicated since then.

He had heard of the New Year's Eve incident, where Piccolo, Krillin, and Yamcha had disappeared from the Lookout. He knew that it was his son's fault, too. Well, his and Goten's, but he was rather sure that it was his son who instigated it as Goten usually just followed Trunks around like a puppy. And he knew that not much later, Trunks and Goten summoned the Great Dragon and made a wish that had something to do with knowing how the namek and two humans were doing, although he hadn't been eavesdropping that closely. And since he didn't particularly care enough to ask what the second wish was, he never heard the details. Vegeta had thought it was all a waste, as the only decent fighter to go missing was Piccolo. Maybe Krillin, if he was having a -really- good day. He had dismissed the whole thing at the time, busy with preparations for owning a business.

Upon the first day of moving into Yamcha's home, the first thing he had noticed was that the place was saturated with the human's scent. He hadn't cared all that much, as Yamcha wasn't that much of a concern of his. The place was large, built for entertaining and impressing people. There were two bedrooms, but one had been converted into a storage room. There was the unmistakable musk left over from the she-cat, Pu'ar, from when she had been staying there, and Vegeta couldn't blame the human for turning the room into a closet. Pushing the human's clothes to the far side of the closet, Vegeta took over the house. He kept the foodstuff well supplied. The plants were watered. The place was cleaned every weekend. But Yamcha's scent lingered. Even after six months.

The scent wouldn't have been so bad... if it weren't for the dreams.

The glass in his hand broke as Vegeta inadvertently crushed it. Just thinking of the dreams had his entire body responding. His skin flushed hot, burning, even as it broke out in cold sweats. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, low and visceral like the bass of whatever song 17 was playing. Knees turned as week as water. Breathing turned ragged, and Vegeta had to consciously take control of his body. But no command he could give would assuage the heavy ache in his loins, a hard arousal the likes of which he hadn't had since... actually, harder than he'd ever had. Cursing in several languages, Vegeta turned to leave. He acknowledged 18 as he left, letting her know that she would have to close up.

He made it home without incident, something he almost regretted. But once inside the condo, he was free give in. He inhaled deeply of the human's musky scent that permeated the place. He didn't dare go to the bedroom, though. Too many... dreams. At one point, he had thought they were over, but it wasn't meant to be. Instead, they were worse. Much worse.

"Fuck," Vegeta hissed, stripping out of his recently uncomfortable, confining clothes and tossing them to wherever they wanted to lie. He stalked to the bathroom, his erection standing proudly, demanding attention. He tried to ignore it.

Last night had been the strangest dream ever. Whereas before, some of the dreams seemed to be a twisted version of his life under Lord Freeza, only with Kakarrot as ruler, the latest ones were... stranger still. When they had started, he had been disturbed and somewhat disgusted with them. Especially since most of them revolved around Yamcha, whom the prince never could tolerate. But over time, the disgust and intolerance had faded. Now the dreams left him confused. And other things. One dream had him fighting Recoom, a twisted version of that fight on Namek, only this one was in an arena. He was getting his ass kicked, again. Only, this time, instead of Kakarrot being the one to save him, it was Yamcha, which was strange because Yamcha had always been weaker than him. But the feelings of gratitude and thankfulness were stranger still. He had never felt that way about anyone stronger than him, always striving to exceed those that were better. Waking up after that dream had been difficult, as his body was racked with pain. After that, there were two nights of dreams that held nothing except the thought of a willing and able lover, something he didn't mind dreaming about as it didn't haunt his days. But then the dreams came back. The one last night... That one affected him more, forcing him to wake up, shivering and covered in sweat, aching with unsatisfied need, crying out for the scarred human who's scent was still in the pillows and curtains and carpet. Just thinking about the things in that one dream alone had him salivating with lust.

Even more disturbing, the dreams seemed so lifelike, so incredibly real. The taste of the blood in his mouth from when Recoom hit him. The sensation of having a tail again, and the mind numbing pleasure of someone touching that one spot at its base that never failed to bring him to his knees. The sound of Yamcha's heated voice whispering, '_You'd feel better inside of me. Moving as hard as you wanted to, making those come-eat-me, come-fuck-me noises._'  And the emotions that assaulted him constantly, like street drugs that wouldn't let him get off their wild ride. All of it was causing him to dread going to sleep again.

Just thinking of some of the things that Yamcha said to him reminded Vegeta of how his personal love song sounded being sung... '_Damn. I want that,_' Vegeta thought to himself as he stepped into the heated spray of water. He had once tried to sing it to Bulma, long ago when he had thought to marry and mate with the human woman. He had been foolish, and had decided to 'settle' for her, knowing that there was no real depth to their relationship. Upon hearing the song, she had turned in his arms, and demanded that he never sing it to her again, even without knowing what the reason for it was. It was too strange for her, she didn't like him speaking in a language she didn't know, and the song had no melody anyway. He never sang it to her again, didn't even bring the topic back up for discussion. He didn't blame her for not liking it. That didn't stop the throat-tightening ache that her rejection caused. Later, when she proposed marriage to him, he flat out refused. She couldn't truly accept -all- of him, so why should he bother to accept her proposal? His body had settled for her; the rest of him never would. And to think, it had started with his song and her disapproval of it. But in his dreams, Yamcha had loved it, and his soft voice crooned it to him perfectly, right into his heart.

"Fuck," Vegeta whimpered, the ache between his legs growing heavier and harder, if such a thing was possible. He collapsed to his knees before falling back against the tiles of the shower stall. Closing his eyes, he began to touch himself, remembering the sounds from his dreams, the feelings, the touches, and especially last night's dream. He hated his dreams. Hated them. In them, he was weak. And pathetic. And broken. ... And lucky. Because there wasn't a chance in hell that Vegeta would ever have anyone want him as much as his dream lover did. It was another reason he didn't want to go to sleep at night. Just one more chance to see what he could never have. A broken sob was all the sound he made as his seed splashed uselessly and unceremoniously with the water before flowing down the drain. 

He rested there, allowing his heartbeat and breathing to return to normal as the water pelted down on him. He didn't have a clue what he was going to do when Yamcha returned, if he returned. He'd have to find his own place, and he knew he wasn't going to be able to afford anything as nice as Yamcha's home, and he'd be damned before he accepted any more charity from the blue-haired human woman. He would just have to pray that his club would support him enough to get a house. 

He wanted it to happen soon. Because if he had to suffer through the dreams, and then wake up to the human's scent surrounding him, he knew he would go mad.


	17. Empty Places

_Disclaimer__- I, Summer Starr, and my partner for this venture, Deani Bean, do not own Dragonball Z. Though, if we did..._

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_Warnings__- Sugar and Spice and nothing nice. Well, maybe a few things that are nice. Heh... I never did learn to cook food. But this chapter is cooking, so please leave some feedback. Tell us who ya love. Tell us who ya hate. Tell us to go to hell if you feel so inclined, but be forewarned: some of us already have property there, and know we'll be seeing you soon. Yaoi. Lemon. Violence. Angst. Happy, happy, joy, joy._

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**Kingdom Come**

~ _Chapter 17_

Lord Kakarrot gazed out over the lands as the heavy rains saturated them. He hated the rain. Every year, it rained nearly incessantly during the eighth month and on into the ninth month. Rolling his eyes slightly, he continued down the windowed hallway towards his wife's room. The emperor didn't particularly care to see her but hadn't visited her in a few days and felt she was due to perform her duties.

Suddenly, he came to an abrupt halt. He smelled something. Something incredibly familiar and usually welcome. But not in the palace. Breaking into a run, he followed his nose to Lady Chichi's room. Stepping inside, the door slid shut behind him, trapping him with the overwhelming stench. Only taking a few more steps, he tripped over something and fell to the floor. "Lights!" he yelled.

Nappa stared into the royal saiyajin's eyes. Upon further inspection, Lord Kakarrot became aware that it was only Nappa's head. It had been his body over which the emperor tripped. Leaping up from the floor, he whipped his head around, looking for Chichi. He placed his hand on his chest, breathing a sigh of relief; she was still sleeping. Moving closer, he began to wonder when the normally white sheets had been changed for maroon ones.

Of course, then he realized they hadn't been changed. They were just stained.

Gritting his teeth, the saiyajin grabbed the top of the sheet near the lady's neck and yanked it off of the bed. Perfect lines stretched across her naked body, starting from her neck down to her ankles, each one equal in distance apart, except for the large, jagged hole blown out from just above her sex. It was only afterwards that he noticed the pillow lying next to her head. Exhaling harshly through his nose, he exited the room, the bloody words from the pillow screaming in his head.

'_No more heirs..._' 

***

Goten adjusted his scouter as he quickly made his way to his mother's room in the west wing. His father hadn't said why he needed to go there, but he had said 'at -once-', which meant something was horribly amiss. Luckily for the young demi-saiyajin, he'd received the call just after he'd exited the shower. If the call had come a mere half an hour sooner, he would've still been in Piccolo's room, and that would've been an even bigger mess to have on his hands. Rounding the corner in the hallway, he began to run. If his father's words had not been indication enough, the reek of blood in this part of the palace was enough to make him certain that something truly was wrong.

The door to Lady Chichi's room stood open, and Goten finally saw the carnage he could smell from far away. Lord Kakarrot stood with his back to the room, his tail hanging low but the tip of it continuously jerking, staring out the window into the rain pouring down on the palace. Faintly, Goten heard retching sounds coming from the bathing chamber, and a few moments later, Gohan walked out of there, wiping his mouth on the back of his gloves.

"Oh, good. You're here," Gohan said, trying to pass it off as a greeting. His tail hung loosely behind him, helping him balance himself. His eyes swept the area again, and he suppressed a gag. "Isn't this just..."

"Obscene," supplied Goten. He kept his eyes on Nappa for the time being, examining the perfectly intact body and head separately. Walking past Gohan, he went into the bathing chamber and came back out with a pair of clear plastic gloves adorning his hands. Returning to Nappa's location, he prodded the head a bit with one finger, his tail wrapped securely around him and hooked in the back -- so as to not contaminate the scene -- as he usually did when he was working.

"Well, actually, I was thinking 'gross'," Gohan retorted. "I mean, I just blow them away. This is sick."

Goten snorted from his crouched position. "Well, you -would- know what 'sick' is, wouldn't you?" he muttered under his breath.

"Did you just say something?" the older prince asked, distracted.

"Merely making an observation for myself." Moving Nappa's head around, he picked it up, turning it over in his hands until he finally turned it to face him. A gelatinous substance leaked from the oversized nostrils, causing Goten to scrunch up his face as he watched it slowly ooze downward. Then, the frown of disgust turned to one of inquiry. '_This looks familiar,_' he thought. Dropping the head apathetically onto the floor, he walked over to his mother's bed, where her body still lay untouched.

"Oh. Whatever, then," Gohan remarked as he turned away, feeling slightly lightheaded. He had to breath through his mouth so as not to actually smell the stench in the room. He never was one to shirk blood during battle, but he hated it as an aftertaste.

Without further delay, Lord Kakarrot spun around and glared at his sons. "Are you two quite finished?!" he barked. "I didn't call you here to listen to you complain. I want to know who did this, and I want to know -NOW-!"

Goten stared down at his mother's face, her eyes closed and her face completely relaxed. If not for the blood surrounding her, she would've looked peaceful to him for the first time in her life. He knew how Gohan, he, and his father had treated her in the past and thought perhaps she might've preferred death. Regardless, he had a job to do and couldn't afford to waste time on trivial thoughts. Goten gingerly lifted her head from the bed, an easy feat considering the perpetrator had sliced through her neck. The same as with Nappa, Chichi's brains leaked out of from her nose.

"Is that really necessary, Goten?" spat his father. It unnerved him the way his youngest son was acting, as if he were stabbing at an animal that was obviously dead. '_Beating a dead horse_,' he thought, remembering something that his lovely Bulma had once said, though he knew that the aphorism meant something other than what he was witnessing.

"Yes," his younger son stated.

Nodding, Lord Kakarrot folded his arms across his chest, narrowing his eyes, even as his tail made one final snap before encircling his royal waist. "How soon can you tell me who did this?"

"Well, as there is no one in the palace or otherwise that would be fast enough to take such... care in dissecting Nappa and the Lady, that person would have had to have some sort of mental hold on them, and there's really only one person who possesses that sort of ability," pointed out Goten, as he gently placed his mother's head back on her body. After seeing the identical occurrence in his mother as Nappa, Goten had determined he'd seen that exact reaction a few times before, all having the common link of being the same person's victim. Looking back up at his father and Gohan, he inquired, "Has anyone seen Guldo lately...?"

A loud snarl echoed through the room. "Find him," Lord Kakarrot hissed. "Find him, and kill him."

***

Krillin sat across from 18 as they ate a late lunch. The food was delicious, much to Krillin's glee. Apparently, an 'accident' named Lord Kakarrot had befallen the previous cook, who overcooked everything. But now, the food was better than ever. On top of that, it was raining outside! He hadn't really noticed rain since they'd gotten there, yet it had been raining for the past three days straight. He didn't think this day could get any better... until he saw Vegeta and Yamcha, also taking a late lunch, exit the food line. "Yamcha!" Krillin called out to his friend, waving them over to his table.

"Hey, Krillin, 18," greeted the scarred human. Knowing how much 18 and Vegeta did not get along, Yamcha chose to sit next to her, allowing Vegeta the more amiable presence of Krillin, who had no real problems with the saiyajin. "Man. I feel like I haven't seen you in forever!"

"No kidding," the bald man chuckled. "It's been, what? Five or six weeks since the tournament?"

"Six," the blonde android corrected. She was not thrilled by the interruption, but she was at a loss on how to get rid of them. Despite the orders to keep the guests separated, it was also part of the instructions to be discreet and subtle. To separate them now would be far too obvious. And it might cause some questions to arise. None of them, she knew, were stupid. They would ask questions.

"Too long," Yamcha nodded. Starting in on his food, he ate a few bites before offering up an explanation from out of nowhere. "Just been busy, I guess."

"Yeah. I hear ya," Krillin agreed, trying to eat and talk at the same time. He also tried to figure out a way to get Yamcha alone. He hadn't even had the opportunity to tell his longtime friend about Mr. Popo and the chance to go home yet!

"So, what do you think of your new digs?" Yamcha asked, curious. "Mine are pretty good. A lot nicer than what we first got."

"Yeah. They're great and all," Krillin nodded, munching. He looked over at Vegeta who had his head down, staring at his plate, with his tail wrapped almost loosely around his waist. Turning back to Yamcha, he added, "But there's hardly any room to perform a real kata."

"Really?" Yamcha queried. He thought about it, and acknowledged that space was rather limited in his place too in some areas.

"Yeah. And you remember what Piccolo said. It's -important- to stay in practice," Krillin said, emphasizing important. He hoped that Yamcha would pick up on it, as he didn't want to have to be too blatant.

"Yeah, he is rather fond of that," Yamcha remarked, eyeing his friend. "So, do you have something in mind?"

"How about a sparring session?" Krillin suggested, a light smirk on his face. "If you're not tired or anything."

"Heh. Not hardly," Yamcha shot right back. "When and where, 'DeVito'?"

"Outside in the rain, Pacino," Krillin retorted, stifling a giggle.

Yamcha laughed aloud, drawing a few uninvited stares. Neither he nor Krillin cared. "How about after lunch? But before dinner. And, um, NOT in the rain."

"All right," Krillin agreed happily. He hadn't wanted to get wet anyway. "I think there's a covered sparring grounds close to the arena."

"There is," Vegeta said quietly. "And it's highly unlikely that anyone is there today."

"Yeah. With the murders and all," Yamcha agreed, his voice softening out of respect for the dead.

"No. More that they are all looking to see who is going to be assigned ship duty," 18 informed the humans, a bit aggravated that Vegeta was offering suggestions to them. Didn't he know that they were supposed to be keeping them apart? If not, she'd be more than happy to explain it to him. Physically. "It is an honor to 'serve' Prince Gohan or Lord Kakarrot."

"When you say 'serve'," Yamcha began, turning to look at the blonde female, "what kind of 'serve' are you talking about here? It almost sounds as if--"

Krillin waved his hands back and forth rapidly in front of his face as Yamcha began asking a question he really didn't want to hear the answer to again, finally reaching out and gripping the other male's wrists tightly. "Oh, he knows what you meant," Krillin uncomfortably responded. "He was just being silly, right, Yamcha?"

When Yamcha frowned in confusion at him, the much shorter human mouthed, "Shut. Up."

An awkward silence fell over the table for a few minutes before Yamcha began speaking again, doing his best to avoid looking at 18. "So, after lunch, wanna go spar?"

"Yes. I think that'd be a great idea," Krillin said, relieved.

The rest of the meal passed in relative silence as they finished off their plates. Then it was off to the covered arena, Vegeta leading the way with Yamcha and Krillin behind him, and 18 taking rear guard sullenly.

"Wow, it's like a high school gym," Krillin commented, looking up. "With a... really high ceiling."

"Well, let's give it a go, man," grinned Yamcha, trotting towards the center of the floor, with Krillin following behind him.

As Krillin and Yamcha began their light sparring on the arena floor, 18 moved to stand beside Vegeta. "You just take the cake," she ground out.

Turning slightly to glance at her, Vegeta remained quiet. He knew it didn't matter if he responded to her words or not, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to avoid any blow that he might be able to see coming.

"Were you or were you not given the order to keep the guests apart?" she asked.

Vegeta shrugged. "I was told to keep their socializing down to a minimum."

"And you think that would include allowing them to spar? What are you, mentally deficient?" 18 spat. "You didn't have to mention this place."

"If either of us had discouraged it, they would've seen through it," Vegeta stated. "Perhaps you take them for fools, but I will not underestimate them."

The blond android snorted derisively, dismissing Vegeta's fears. "That is because they are obviously stronger than you. They are not, however, stronger than me."

"Is that so?" Vegeta asked, his eyebrow quirking. Smiling softly, he jerked his head to where the two humans were already engaged in a mild workout for them, though it was far above what was normal for most of the citizens of the palace.

The shorter man's guard looked at the scene with narrowed blue eyes. They were -not- stronger than her. It was impossible.

Krillin took to the air, prompting Yamcha to give chase. Both continued to throw rapid punches and kicks that never landed. "I got some news for you," Krillin said, ducking a kick.

"Oh?" Yamcha queried, spinning away a few feet. "What kind of news?"

"We can go home, Yamcha," grinned the shorter human, keeping his voice low. "Back to our world."

"No shit?" asked the scarred male. "What? When? How?"

"After we got separated on the last day of the tournament," Krillin began, starting up the faux workout again, "I ran into an old friend of ours: Mr. Popo."

"He's still alive?" Yamcha gasped. "I had no idea."

"Dude, you would not believe the craziness I found out," Krillin said, shaking his head, "but that's not important. What -is- important is that he has the Mirror of Janus."

"Mirror of who-ey?" The dark-haired male paused, one of Krillin's punches nearly hitting its mark.

"The mirror," reiterated Krillin. "You know. That brought us here."

"Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah," Yamcha nodded. "So he has it?"

"Yeah, and once the time is right, we can use it to go back to our world." Krillin sighed. "I can't wait to get away from here."

Yamcha nodded again, but he wasn't so sure about returning home. He didn't have much more than a nice place to live and money to which to go back. But here... Here, he had Vegeta. Suddenly, an idea popped into his head. "Say, Krillin," he started, "do you think we could bring Vegeta back with us? I mean, this place is no place for him."

"I don't see why not," shrugged the smaller man. Smirking, he added, "Besides the fireworks when he meets the Vegeta from our world oughta be interesting enough on their own. Heh. Hell, I'd -pay- to see that. Gee, I hope Vegeta doesn't kill... himself. Or something."

"I don't think Vegeta, our Vegeta would care," Yamcha said slowly, thinking aloud. "I mean, he rarely pays attention to things that are weaker than him. Hell, he rarely pays attention to anything other than himself. He won't even realize that m-uh... this Vegeta is there. So, let's include him in our plans to return home."

"You got it. I'll relay it to Piccolo. Or you can if you get a chance to see him," Krillin said. "Anyway, the window is New Year's Eve, stroke of midnight. As cheesy and as cliché as that is, that's when we're able to leave."

"I'll be ready," Yamcha replied, a warmth filling his soul. Home! They were all going to be going home! Krillin, and Piccolo, and Vegeta, and himself! All of them. He couldn't wait! He'd have to tell Vegeta. "We're going home. Thank Dende..."

For another hour and a half, Krillin and Yamcha continued their spar, catching up on things they'd learned and things they wanted to discuss, but eventually, the two humans noticed the boredom of their guards. Feeling a little guilty at having sparred so long and being a little tired themselves, they floated to the ground and bowed to each other, ending the light match. They went as far as up the lift together but separated once again as Krillin and 18 got out on Level 4.

Vegeta eyed Yamcha curiously as they walked down the hall to his room a few levels up. The human grinned from ear to ear, and Vegeta could practically feel happiness coming off of him in waves. '_Where is this coming from?_' the saiyajin wondered. '_Surely not from a simple spar._' He waited until the doors closed behind him to unfurl his tail and silently ask what was on the human's mind with a tilt of his head.

Yamcha, grinning like a lunatic and knowing it, flopped down on his back onto the bed. He stared up at the ceiling for a good few minutes before sitting up. He had to mentally restrain himself from jumping up and down like a child. "Guess what, Vegeta!"

Vegeta, who was beginning to understand a good many of his charge's strange quirks, was glad for the standard answer to this question. "What?"

"We're going home!" Yamcha rejoiced, visibly overjoyed at the news. He was so blinded by this news, he missed seeing the look of outright horror on Vegeta's face.

They were leaving. Yamcha was leaving! Vegeta's tail fell behind him as if it suddenly was filled with heavy metal and became more of a broken toy sewed on than an actual appendage. He closed his eyes against the pain as all his internal organs dropped through the floor. All save one, which pulsed inside his throat threatening to make him sick. His breathing picked up as he opened his eyes. Yamcha was leaving him! Leaving him to this hell that was made all the worse because of the past month's taste of heaven. It wasn't fair! It wasn't right! It couldn't be happening!

"We'll all be leaving this insanity, going home to family and friends and better places than this!" Yamcha practically sang. He couldn't wait to take Vegeta home, rescue him from this accursed dimension. He didn't care what anyone else said or did or thought; the erstwhile prince was coming with them. He'd find a way for it to happen. He loved him, and there wasn't anything that anyone could do about it. "Isn't it fantastic?"

The small saiyajin's head pounded. They were leaving. Yamcha was leaving.

Each word was like a stab, straight into Vegeta's soul. Before the human could say another word, Vegeta pounced on him, frantically trying to shut off the flow of gut-wrenching words.

Yamcha fell back onto the bed with a laugh, taken slightly aback by the desperation in the saiyajin's move. He wasn't one who was adverse to a bit of rough play, though. There were no smooth caresses. There were no whispered words of affection. There was no gentleness in any of Vegeta's actions. His kisses were dominating and demanding. His hands clutched and pulled and took. His tail snaked around Yamcha's wrists, capturing him and refusing to let him go. Clothes were an obstacle that didn't last, but somehow managed to be removed without tearing. There was hunger. There was need. There was a frantic desperation the likes of which Vegeta had never given into before.

When he was fully embedded in the human's body, he watched their bodies moving together, grateful that at least Yamcha was reduced to incoherency by that time. He began chanting over and over again, a mantra that he knew would haunt him every night, "I want to remember. I want to remember. I want to remember. Dear gods, I want to remember..."

And afterwards, when there were no words remembered by either of them, and only Vegeta remained awake, his arms wrapped tightly, possessively around his human lover, he gave into the silent tears that demanded their own release. Why, after so long of living a walking death, had he been granted to remember what life could be like, only to have it snatched away again? What deity did he piss off? And what could he do to make up for it so that Yamcha would stay with him, always and forever...

Choking occasionally, Vegeta began to croon softly, whispering in his native tongue everything he couldn't say in Yamcha's.

***

The door hissed open, allowing 17 to enter his room. No lights were on, but that didn't matter to the android, who was quite aware of his room and its contents. Trunks was already asleep, curled up on his side of the bed with one arm thrown out to 17's. Sitting lightly on the edge of the bed, 17 began to pull off his absurd gloves.

"Want me to help with your boots?" Trunks asked sleepily.

"You don't have to get up," 17 answered softly, turning to watch as Trunks sat up.

"The faster you undress, the sooner you come to bed," Trunks retorted, crawling to the edge of the bed and then to the floor. He grinned through the shadows of the room, absently brushing his hair out of his face, as he grabbed the first boot to begin tugging it off. "So, how was your day?"

"It was uneventful guarding, but not an uneventful day," 17 said as he pulled his foot out from the boot.

Tumbling back a bit with the escape of 17's foot from the booted prison, the demi-saiyajin giggled slightly. "Yeah. I know what you mean. I followed the events as best as I could, but not even I could keep up with everything."

"Oh?" 17 asked, wiggling his toes after Trunks snatched off his sock as a follow up to the boot.

"Yeah." Trunks grinned, grabbing the other boot to repeat the process. "But I got the gist of it. You know, it's really easy for me to get into the cracks of even Lady Chichi's rooms, and I heard and saw a lot of things. Fortunately, from everything I've gathered, I'm glad I couldn't actually see her room," Trunks grunted as he fell backwards again, the boot still in his hands.

"I heard that it was truly gruesome," 17 said softly, standing up on his bare feet to start removing the rest of his clothing.

"Yeah. It was. It made Prince Gohan throw up in the bathroom. Several times," Trunks said as he got back into bed. He waited for 17 to slide under the covers with him before curling around him, resting his head on 17's chest. "Anyway, I saw Lord Kakarrot, Prince Gohan, and Prince Goten leaving together. I crept after them, listening. And listened to them as they found more evidence. It seems that the crime was committed last night, and Guldo already had an escape planned so, now, no one knows where he's gone. Lord Kakarrot and Prince Gohan are going to be taking their own ships to go look for him in the first and third quadrants. They're going to kill him, of course. It'll be interesting to see how Jeice and his new task force handle the search in quadrant four. Some other search party is going to be looking in the second quadrant."

"Yes. I know that part. Prince Gohan wanted me or 18 to be in charge of that search party, but Lord Kakarrot knew that we would be unable to assist. First, we are on guard duty, and we cannot be called back unless we are willing. Second, it was thought that Prince Goten should be left behind to run things while they were gone, and that we would be the best choice of back up should anything... unforeseeable occur," 17 said as he wrapped his arm around his lover.

"Heh. You should have heard some of the things they said, though," Trunks laughed. "Lord Kakarrot was almost beside himself. He had his tail wrapped so tightly around him, you'd think it really belonged to my sire. He was a bit disturbed by Prince Goten's actions, I think. Anyway, he was also ranting about the words left on the pillow, 'No More Heirs', ya know. Some of the words he used, I didn't think that he knew. I mean, they're like low class words."

"Lord Kakarrot wasn't always an emperor. He started out as a nobody," 17 reminded the younger male.

"Huh." Trunks sighed, nestling down further into 17's chest. "I didn't really get it, you know? Why'd Guldo do it? And 'No more heirs.' What did he mean by that?"

"I can only guess as to why he did it, love," the android answered, calmly stroking the demi-saiyajin's lavender locks. "Revenge maybe? Captain Ginyu and Recoom were killed. And Jeice and Burter were sent away. Perhaps he felt... betrayed."

"But why'd he kill Lady Chichi and her guard then?" Trunks questioned. "Shouldn't he have killed Lord Kakarrot or Prince Gohan instead?"

"They're too strong. He wouldn't be able to do anything against them," 17 pointed out. Suddenly, it was as if light was shed on the situation. "Heh. Of course. That's why he chose Lady Chichi. It makes sense now."

"What?" the demi-saiyajin asked.

"If you can't physically harm someone, how else would you injure them? You attack the thing that's most important to them," the dark-haired male explained. "It's common knowledge that Lord Kakarrot yearns for more heirs to sustain the empire. And since Prince Gohan appears unable to produce heirs, and Prince Goten won't, Guldo attacked the only person who -has- been able to do so. Lady Chichi."

"You know, I don't understand Prince Goten," Trunks remarked. "When Lord Kakarrot went to go call for the sanitation service to come and clean the room, the prince spoke up and said that he would take care of Lady Chichi's body. And of Nappa's. All the cleaners would have to do would be to sanitize the room. Of course, that -really- creeped out Lord Kakarrot and Prince Gohan. I could practically hear their tails stiffening and tightening."

"They probably think he's going to take them to his lair and have his way with their corpses," 17 smirked.

"Eww! Gross!" Trunks groaned. "Seriously, what do you think he's going to do with them? Have you ever seen him 'handle' a dead body?"

"From personal experience, no," 17 answered. "But I know what he does with them nonetheless. After he investigates them, he usually burns them. From some human cultures, it's a sign of respect. Also, some religions think it is a way to free the spirit. I, personally, have no clue and don't really care. I just think it's a convenient way to save space and save a lot of digging. He's very practical. And contrary to what a lot of palace gossip says, he's no monster. Just very reserved. Unlike his family."

"Yeah. You'll never believe how spoiled Prince Gohan was acting. He was throwing a hissy fit because he wouldn't be home for his birthday celebration," Trunks said, his fingers playing over 17's abdomen. He had never really been able to celebrate his own birthday and envied the prince for being able to have a party on his. "But when he found out that he was also going to be planet purging, he was a bit happier about things. Sex and violence are all he really knows, I guess."

"I heard that he wasn't too thrilled with the idea, so he chose the more 'attractive' warriors at his disposal, not the strongest. I think he may be planning on throwing his own party," 17 remarked, long practiced at keeping the contempt out of his voice. Whereas Goten was a threat, Gohan was more of a disgusting pain. Whorish, and arrogant, and for the most part, worthless, 17 had never been able to fathom why he was allowed to continue on in his errant ventures. Granted, at the rate things were going, the boy never would turn into a man, and would thankfully never sire any mongrel children. But still, there was an element of responsibility, of decorum, of... taste that the elder prince never could manage to attain. It wasn't 17's place to criticize, though. It was his job to follow orders, and that was what he did.

"Yeah. They all left close to dinner time," Trunks answered. "I guess this leaves the rest of us to our own devices."

"I rather think that even with Lord Kakarrot and Prince Gohan gone, things will continue as they are," 17 smiled. "Just to be safe."

"Safe? Are we ever really safe here?" asked Trunks.

"Here? Probably not. But... it's the best we have," 17 replied, shifting so that he took had Trunks laying almost fully on him, the lavender tail curled up around their legs. "And as long as I have you, it's by far better than wonderful."

Trunks blushed at that, but had nothing to reply with.

"Of course, we both know that Piccolo and his troupe are going to be going home at the end of this year. He has asked if we would like to come," 17 sighed.

"Yeah. But I can't leave my mother. And... I don't think I'd feel safe there, ya know. I mean, this is where I grew up. I -know- this place. I hear its voice and know its secrets and know where I am and what's where more by smell than by sight. I can't leave here."

"And I can't leave you," 17 answered. "That's just not an option."

"Thank you," Trunks said, raising up and placing a quick kiss on his lover's cheek.

"I tell you what. Next spring, I'll ask for some time off," 17 said, beginning to stroke the long tresses of Trunks' hair again. "Do you remember when you were younger, and I took you to the beach?"

"Heh. Yeah." Trunks grinned, remembering the feel of the ocean's salt stinging his skin, and the sand shifting under his feet. He had been terrified, and unused to wide-open spaces like that. But 17 had been there, and somehow it had turned into his favorite memory. "I remember."

"I think we could both use a trip like that, away from the Palace and all the bullshit that's going on here. And you could use some sun. You're very pale."

"Oh?" Trunks asked, raising his head. "Like the ghost everyone calls me?"

"Yeah." 17 smiled in the dark. "As in, if I try to touch you, my hand will pass right through."

"Really? Why don't you test that theory, then?" Trunks said impishly. "Go ahead. Touch me."

The android grinned in the darkness, letting both of his hands skim down the younger man's sides, dancing lightly over ribs. Trunks chuckled at the initial touch before moving to slant his mouth over 17's. The covers and sheet were tossed carelessly away from their bodies by an irritated lavender tail that wanted to play. Synthetic blue eyes danced with merriment as 17 grabbed at the curled appendage and ruffled the fur against the grain, granting him a shiver from the still dominant youth.

Ever since their first time together, their real first time, Trunks found that 17 always put him on top. It was strange, being in charge, feeling powerful. It added something totally exotic to the experience. Yet, Trunks knew that there was more to it than simply adding that new sensation. It was something more. It was like 17 was... worshiping him, almost. It sounded crazy when he put the thoughts into words, but it felt like it nonetheless. That part alone was enough to leave him shivering with something he felt deep inside, and it wasn't cold. But this time, he wanted something different. He wanted to abandon himself to 17, letting his dark-haired lover take control for once.

A dizzying kiss gave way to a quick roll, and 17 pulled up to discover that Trunks was now on his back, looking up at him with his blue eyes flashing slightly in the darkness. "Trunks?" 

"Yeah?" Trunks asked, resting his head back on the pillow.

"What...?"

"Do what you want, m'love. Do what you want," Trunks whispered, repeating his lover's words.

"Are you sure?" 17 asked, gently brushing the back of one hand down Trunks' face to his throat.

"Yeah. I'm sure." Trunks sighed into the caress. The lavender haired male let out a soft gasp as 17 swooped down and placed a searing kiss over the pulse in his throat. It was a tender spot for him, an area that he knew was a vulnerability. But the way 17 used it to spin the most delicate web of sensations...

Trunks sighed as he luxuriated in 17's ministrations, simply soaking in the feelings and sensations. He was very lucky to have the dark-haired android. Very lucky. He'd have been dead a thousand times over if it hadn't had been for 17's intervention. And the intervention of his mother. They kept him alive and well and sane. Though, if 17 kept up the teasing, that sanity issue might come into question...

He knew he was lucky to have both of them. Luckier than Lady Chichi had been. Trunks was no one's fool. He knew that the Lady and he had a few things in common. They had been abused. They had been raped repeatedly. They had been weaker than most of the palace inhabitants. And they had rarely, if ever, been seen by anyone outside the palace, and for the most part, inside the palace as well. But unlike Lady Chichi, Trunks had people that cared about him, who did everything they could to make sure he stayed grounded. He had friends. He had a mother who loved him enough to sacrifice herself so that he could live, protected him when she could, taught him how to read and write and hide and think. He had 17, who took care of him and protected him when he was younger. And recently, he had Demon Lord Piccolo, and the humans: Krillin and Yamcha. Lady Chichi only had the shadows on her wall.

Soon, Trunks was robbed of his grim reflections, taken to a place of sound and color that only 17 could manage to find for him. He rode the currents as best he could, clinging to his raven-haired lover, whispering the same words that 17 repeatedly told him, "I love you." And knowing that they both meant them.


	18. Belonging

_Disclaimer- Summer and I (aka Deani Bean) don't own DBZ. Which is crap. Seriously. Anyway... This is the chapter. I have been waiting for this particular chapter since before Summer and I even started writing this monstrosity. And if you know me, then you know only one thing must be happening for me to be this freakin' excited. Up to eleven, folks. Up to eleven._

_Warnings- Yaoi, yaoi, and more yaoi. Altar boys couldn't do this much confessing. More citrus than you could find in the Sunshine State. (aka Angst, Lemons, etc.) Oh, yeah. It's -so- on._

**Kingdom Come**  
_~ Chapter 18_

Outside, the night was barely illuminated by a few wayward lights spread out across the ebony landscape, as if someone thought to remind the world's citizens what light was. The rain, though, defeated the noble sentiment by masking the majority, and only allowing its flashes of lightning to brighten the sky. The lower levels of the Palace, the first floor mainly, had its hallways flooded, though only the lowest class of soldiers had to worry about it. Lower class, like Vegeta. 

Yamcha stared out at the window, watching as the gray droplets pounded against the window. The only thing he was wearing was a scowl as he looked out onto the world. He and Vegeta had recently finished with yet another 'strenuous' workout, something that happened every night since they had found out that they were going home. And while Yamcha wasn't one to turn away from a bit of rough love play, he did grow tired of it after a while. His preference was something a bit slower, longer lasting. Plus, after so long with the same routine, one tends to become used to it and either the work out needs to be tougher, or the routine needs to change in another way.

The human turned his head to look back at the bed where Vegeta was still asleep. The short male had the covers draped low, just above his waist, one arm stretched out. A flash of lighting helped in the endeavor, allowing the once desert bandit the chance to see Vegeta's face as it was when there was no ulterior motive masking whatever the ex-prince was feeling. '_He looks so sad,_' Yamcha thought. Looking at him, Yamcha had the poetic thought that it was as if this prince wore sadness like an invisible shroud just under his skin, enveloping his entire soul. 

Yamcha watched as Vegeta's hand tightened where it rested, a spot where he knew he should have still been lying. There was a moment of stillness as Vegeta's hand only came into contact with the sheets. And then the prince was wide awake, sitting upright, looking around. His eyes were wide, panicky, as he searched the darkness. Yamcha waited, wondering if he was even visible where he was. But as soon as Vegeta looked in his direction, the saiyajin spotted him. 

Vegeta waited, wondering why his human lover was out of the bed. Yamcha, instead of talking like he'd normally did, simply watched him. It was strange, to see the scarred warrior so silent. Strange and unnerving. Scary as hell, actually, so the tailed guard thought to break the silence himself. "What are you doing out of bed?"

"Watching you sleep. Watching the rain fall," Yamcha replied softly, watching in the shadowed darkness as Vegeta pulled his knees up and rested his arms across them. "And I'm thinking."

"Thinking about what?" Vegeta asked, automatically. His tail moved to snake around him, but refused to stay as it curled up behind him. 

"Nothing you want to hear about, I'm sure," Yamcha responded, whisper-soft. Shaking himself, he turned his gaze back to the window. "After so long without rain, I image a lot of people are happy to have it back."

"Not really. It makes the ground too muddy, and you can't have an aerial chi battle without fear of lightning striking you dead," Vegeta answered, tilting his head to the side. He waited a moment as Yamcha quietly nodded his head. "But the weather isn't what's keeping you out of bed. You've slept through storms harsher than this in the past weeks."

"No. It's not," Yamcha intoned.

"Are you going to tell me? Or am I going to have to grab you by the ankles and tickle it out of you?" Vegeta smiled, hoping to tease it out of the human. Since his recent discovery of Yamcha's susceptibility to tickling, he'd used it against the taller male, though sparingly. Vegeta so enjoyed seeing the human smile and hearing him laugh and feeling him squirming beneath him. He would prefer that any day over a sullen version of Yamcha, like now.

"Heh," Yamcha chuckled. "Vegeta, I know that you don't want me to talk about what I'm thinking."

"Oh? Know me so well, do you?" Vegeta retorted, his anger sparked. "Try me, human."

"Fine," the human responded. "I was thinking about home. And how different it's all going to be after seeing this place. How much -better- it'll be. The freedom. The fun stuff. Have you ever had ice cream? Been to a beach or an amusement park? Friends? Do you know anything about friends? All those things -- those wonderful, beautiful things -- exist at home. I've been wondering... What's happened there? Was there any trouble that they needed Piccolo for? Has Krillin's daughter gotten into any trouble without him there to look out for her? Does anyone even remember that I have condo that needs to be kept up? Are all my plants dead? And... Well, I guess I'll just shut up now. I can tell by the growing scowl on your face that you're getting pissed off with every word I say about home."

Vegeta was about to protest, but the denial died on his lips. Looking at Yamcha's lowered eyebrows, he knew that he had no right to be angry. The human had warned him, after all. So, instead of denying anything, Vegeta thought it would be better to explain himself. "I dislike you talking of your home for a reason, Yamcha."

"Oh?" the scarred warrior asked, hoping that he'd finally get an answer out of his reluctant lover.

"It is a reminder that our time is short," Vegeta said, sliding out of bed, pulling the blanket around him as he walked over to stand beside the human at the window. "I don't need any reminders that you are going to be leaving soon."

"But..." Yamcha began, his mind fumbling as he began to feel Vegeta's heat next to him, even through the blanket. "But aren't you coming? I -- I thought... When were you planning on telling me you weren't coming with us?"

"Coming?" Vegeta asked, looking from the darkness outside to the darkness in Yamcha's eyes. "Coming with you?"

"Yeah. I mean, aren't you?" Yamcha stuttered, pushing off from where he had been leaning. "I mean, you can't -want- to stay here. Can you?"

"Want to stay here?" Vegeta repeated, his mouth falling open. "You mean, you're inviting me? To come with you?"

"Well, yeah. Wait. Did you think--? Oh, no. I didn't realize you didn't know I meant you were included. I mean, I just thought that you'd -know- that I wanted you to come with us and all," Yamcha tried to explain. "I know this place isn't... These people... This place is fucked up, and I know I sure as hell don't want you to stay here. So, will you come with us, come home? I know that I can't offer you a palace to live in, but where I live sure beats the room you're staying in here."

"You... You want me to come with you?" Vegeta asked again, shocked out of his mind. He couldn't think of a single reason why Yamcha was doing this, why he was risking their safety for him. He was a nobody when it came to the power that most of them displayed. He wasn't a prince any longer. Hell, he was hardly a saiyajin. About the only reason anyone ever took an interest in him was because Lord Kakarrot was interested, and that was only to torment him. "Why?"

"Why?" Yamcha repeated, somewhat taken aback. He blinked a few times, shock evident all over his features. Gingerly, he reached out and ran a hand along the side of Vegeta's face. Quietly, he answered the question, and it was an answer that was incredibly easy to say. "Because I love you."

Vegeta closed his eyes, both from the touch and at the words. Jerking his head away, he looked down at the ground, at a spot a few feet away from the edge of the blanket that was wrapped around him. "Don't play with me."

"I swear to you, Vegeta, on my life. I do love you... and only you." Then, to Vegeta's startled amazement, Yamcha fell onto his knees, looking up at the prince. "Please, believe me... because it's true."

The prince was having a bit of difficulty breathing, as his throat was closed so tightly, fighting back tears. He looked down into Yamcha's dark eyes, hoping to see sincerity there. And amazingly enough, he found it. There it all was; everything anyone could've ever wanted. In those eyes, he found more than he had ever hoped to in this life. Shyly, hesitantly, Vegeta wrapped his arms, and consequently the blanket as well, around the human's shoulders. Delicately, he kissed the crown of Yamcha's head. "I... love you as well. I have since you began sneaking out at night to come see me."

"I guess the reason you've been so... demanding, I guess is a good word, lately is that it was the only way to get me to be quiet, huh?" Yamcha asked as he pressed against the warm skin of Vegeta's stomach.

"Quiet? I doubt you're ever quiet," Vegeta smiled. "You somehow manage to make noise even while asleep."

"I don't make noise when I'm asleep!" Yamcha retorted indignantly.

"I'm surprised the walls are still standing with all the noise, not to mention your moans, screams, curses--" Vegeta laughed, but it ended in a yelp of pleasure as a sneaky hand cupped the base of his tail.

"I guess, if I'm making all those noises when asleep, that means you didn't do a good enough job making me unconscious, huh?" Yamcha smirked as he leaned back to look up at the prince's glazed eyes.

"Well, if that's the case," Vegeta replied as he licked his lips, "I'll have to do better."

"Hmmm? Can you?" Yamcha asked as he began to place open mouthed, hot kisses along Vegeta's abdomen.

"You want me to prove it to you?" Vegeta rasped as his knees gave out. The only reason he was still standing was because of Yamcha's embrace, and the fact that his tail had taken it upon itself to wrap around the human's torso.

"If you think you're up to it," Yamcha whispered in reply.

The blanket was wrapped tightly around them even as they fell back to the floor, Vegeta straddling his human lover. But that position wasn't to last for long, as they shifted into one they both preferred, one where Vegeta was more in control of everything. Except, perhaps, himself.

This time, unlike all other times when Vegeta was dominating, there was no rush. There was a new reverence behind each touch, as if he finally understood why Yamcha had been so gentle with him that one time. Fingers danced lightly over flesh, as if this was their first time together, and he didn't know anything about his lover. It wasn't that he hadn't taken time to learn some of Yamcha's favorite things, the more sensitive patches of skin, but this was more of a relearning experience. 

He allowed himself to linger with his kisses, tasting as much as he could. He swirled his tongue over each scar, praising them as honorable tokens of war. He scraped his teeth over the hard buds of Yamcha's nipples before soothing them, only so that he could gently breathe on them to harden them again. 

Yamcha reveled in the heated passion, made all the better by the fact that he knew that Vegeta loved him. Wanted him. Understood that nothing mattered more than them being together. He let his head fall back, a soft moan of pleasure pulled forth from somewhere low. His body screamed at him, begging for what was to come, but it was driven by lust. Not now. This was something different.

Vegeta moved so that he was almost entering the lovely, wanton human under him. He leaned his head down and slanted his mouth across Yamcha's, preferring a kiss over actual penetration just yet, grateful that Yamcha was still more lubricated than should be seemly after their last time. He traced the outline of Yamcha's mouth before dipping in, an overly gentle move that belayed the ravenous hunger he felt. He betrayed himself, though, with how thoroughly he drank from his lover, wanting to taste the thief's very essence in the kiss.

Time seemed to warp in a crazy manner as Yamcha lost himself to the kiss. His fingers skidded along Vegeta's skin until he was able to entangle them in the upward spikes of dark hair. He was left moaning into the kiss as Vegeta entered him, slowly. So intoxicatingly slowly. Maddening. 

Ignoring everything that had once demanded he rush, demanded that he take as much of this as he could as fast as he could, Vegeta took his time, savoring each thrust forward, listening to Yamcha's more delicate sounds of pleasure. Every hitch of breath, every gasp, every moan of pleasure as that one inner spot was hit again and again. He continued kissing his lover, until he couldn't. Left panting, his parted lips hovered just over Yamcha's, even as he continued moving.

Yamcha moved his hands from where they were, so that he could grip the straining muscles of Vegeta's upper arms, as they supported him. Yamcha shifted, encouraging for a faster pace, though he was loathe to do so; it was what his body was demanding. The furred noose around his ankles tightened their hold, preventing them from slipping away as Vegeta refused to accommodate the request. 

"Vegeta..." Yamcha groaned before biting his lower lip. This was almost heaven, but it was probably closer to hell. He was just on the brink of climax, and he knew it. He almost closed his eyes, but by force of will, he kept them open and watching Vegeta moving over him.

"Say it. Say it again," Vegeta demanded, nipping at Yamcha's chin and jaw. "I want to hear you say it."

"I love you?"

"Yes," Vegeta rasped, rolling his hips in a way that had Yamcha arching delightfully under him. He knew how to push when it came time to. "Say it."

"I love you. I love you. I love you," the scarred warrior begged, his voice cracking. "Vegeta, I love you."

"Gods!" Vegeta cursed, keeping his slow rhythm, but changing his movements to those that he knew drove his lover crazy.

Yamcha could feel a scream building inside of him, demanding to be released. He kept his eyes on Vegeta for as long as he could, even with his body writhing as it was, struggling to attain that nirvana he knew was almost upon him. And then it was there. Yamcha threw his head back, tightening his muscles, allowing that scream to pour out of him. Only, it wasn't a scream. It was a deep rumbling groan of pleasure.

As he felt Yamcha's release, Vegeta allowed himself to sink as far as he could into his lover and give in to his own orgasm. He gritted his teeth against the rapture, shuddering in the aftershocks of overwhelming pleasure. When he was finally able to command his body enough to move, he lifted his head and looked up. 

The tailed warrior laughed softly to himself, a sound that was a mixture of amusement and affection. Yamcha was out cold, a look of pleasure and contentment plastered over his face. And he was snoring. Shifting so that he was no longer still inside the human, but still on top, his tail wrapped around one of Yamcha's thighs, and his arms folded over the human's scarred abdomen, Vegeta reflected softly, "I guess I still didn't do a good enough job, huh. Well, there's always next time. And the time after that. And the time after that..."

***

Goten walked slowly down the hallway to Piccolo's room, exchanging a nod of greeting with 17 as they passed each other. Stopping just in front of the door, he hesitated, his tail twitching. He had been coming to Piccolo's room every night for the past three weeks, but each time, he felt that something was... off. It was entirely confusing, and something he needed to discuss with Piccolo. Still, he delayed for as long as he was able. He didn't want to have that conversation with the other male, regardless of how much it needed to occur.

But he could never hold off for too long. Behind that door was the most intricate and captivating conundrum ever imagined: Piccolo. And no matter how confused he became, Goten knew he'd have to figure him out. At the very least, he needed to figure out what was going on. Pressing the button for admittance into Piccolo's room, Goten's anxiety rose. He wrapped his apprehension in a veil of composure as he moved inside and walked towards Piccolo, who was crouched in front of the fireplace, stoking a recently lit fire. Momentarily looking past the other man through the balcony doors somewhere behind him, he saw the storm still raging on. Refocusing on Piccolo, he forced a small smile. "Hi," Goten said.

"Hello," replied the green male. He returned to his seat on the couch to face Goten, allowing him room to sit next to him. "How was your day?"

"Fine," the prince answered, sitting at the opposite end of the couch. His hands seemed to be trembling, and he swore they were going to give his cool exterior away as a façade. Not knowing what else to do with his hands, he stuck them between his rear and the couch, sitting on them. "The morning was very busy with the flooding and all. But the afternoon was light. I even took a long nap."

"That's good. I take that to mean you're not tired at all."

"Not at all," stated the young man. "How was your day?"

"The same as every other day," Piccolo answered. "I think 17 is having a hard time keeping me... preoccupied."

"Oh."

"Have you heard any news from your father or your brother?" inquired Piccolo.

"Yes," Goten nodded, his eyes on the dancing flames in the fireplace. "It turns out Gohan is closest to finding Guldo. My father is on his way to join him. He will, of course, be the one to mete out the punishment."

"Death."

"After a thorough beating."

"I can imagine," Piccolo nodded, chewing slightly on his tongue. While he did not condone Lord Kakarrot's actions, he couldn't deny that even he might do something similar in a case like this, though not for the same reasons. He would not be hell-bent on revenge because someone chose to slight him; it would only be because he cared deeply for the person he'd lost. And he knew Lord Kakarrot did not truly care for Chichi.

Goten sat there, noticing that Piccolo hadn't made a move to come any closer to him. In fact, he thought Piccolo was rather leaning as far away from him as he possibly could without getting up off the couch. Seizing his moment, Goten suddenly blurted out, "If you don't want me to come around anymore, just say so and put me out of my misery."

"What are you talking about?" asked Piccolo, his brow ridges drawn down into a frown.

"You barely even look at me when we're talking anymore, let alone kiss me or touch me. If you don't want me around, why don't you just tell me that and spare me the embarrassment of showing up where I'm not wanted?" Goten exhaled deeply, his body shaking and his tail threatening to cut him in half, it was wrapped so tightly around his waist.

The larger man paused for a moment, still not looking at the prince. "I... enjoy your company."

"Not like you used to," the demi-saiyajin spat. "Am I not good enough anymore? Or is there something else I can do to change?"

The crackling of the fire and the outside rain were the only sounds in the room for a several moments. Neither man moved, but neither spoke. Goten wasn't sure he could stand the stillness much longer. Softly but all at once, Piccolo ended that silence. "We need to talk."

The young prince felt as if his stomach had dropped to the floor and his heart had gone the opposite direction to lodge itself in his throat. Piccolo had only said that to him once or twice before, but those words never failed make Goten want to run and hide. 'We need to talk' never meant anything good. "All right," he said, forcing himself to stay seated.

"Do you remember when you once asked me where I was from?"

"Yes."

"I am from Earth, but not this Earth," Piccolo began. Noting Goten's confusion, he made it a point to gaze directly into the younger male's eyes; Goten needed to know how serious he was. "There was an accident with a mystical item, a mirror. Krillin, Yamcha, and I came through the mirror from our Earth to this one."

 "Are you trying to say you're from a parallel... universe?" Goten's brow furrowed in concentration.

"Something like that."

"That actually explains a lot," Goten said, nodding. "Why we never knew of your existence before this year. Why you're so much stronger than anyone else with whom we've come into contact. It... makes sense." 

Piccolo heaved a deep sigh. He had held off on telling Goten at all, but he knew he deserved to hear the truth. "We had thought we might never be able to return. But the mirror has been found. And we can go back. We're going to leave as soon as we're able."

Goten's eyes were closed. This was not something he wanted to hear. Not that Piccolo and his companions were from another dimension... But that other part. That other awful, terrible part. "So... You're leaving me?' he asked in a quiet voice.

"I'm not leaving -you-. I'm returning to my real life. I have a duty to my world. A responsibility. It's my... job to protect my world. Just as this world needs you, mine needs me. I can't turn my back on that," Piccolo stated, mostly for his own benefit, trying to substantiate his decision. Maybe he shouldn't have said anything after all. It... hurt. "That's why I've been trying to... distance myself from you. It would be dishonorable of me to continue as I have been with you if I am to leave. But I -have- to return to my world. It's where I belong."

"But then, where will I belong?" Goten questioned. He looked up at Piccolo then, his eyes wide and filled with an emotion that made Piccolo feel even worse. "We belong with each other."

Piccolo, still trying to justify himself, very quietly replied, "You'll find someone else."

"I don't think you understand," Goten responded, fighting to keep the tears from welling in his eyes. He was hurt, angry, upset. The words spilled out of his mouth before he even really knew what he was saying. "I'm in -love- with -you-. Do you even -realize- that I have never loved anyone else before? I'm not going to love anyone else after you either! And here you are saying you're leaving and that you don't want to be with me just because of -that-. I get it, I -do-, but I don't want that. I want -you-. I love you." Stopping for just a moment to catch his breath, Goten considered what he'd just confessed. He'd admitted it to no one, yet he knew it was all the truth. What could Piccolo be thinking of him now? How weak he was? Maybe so. "You probably think that's weak of me. To admit that I love you. But I don't care. I do love you. I know that maybe you don't love me, but... If that's the case, then say -that's- why you don't want to be with me. Don't blame it on going home and returning to duty and all of that garbage. Just tell me you don't love me. That's an acceptable end. And you leaving -isn't-!"

"You'll find someone else," Piccolo reiterated, avoiding the intense gaze of the young man seated at the other end of the couch. "And a few weeks after I'm gone... You won't even remember who I am."

"Are you out of your mind?! Just tell me you don't love me. I want to hear you say it. Tell me," Goten hissed, finally standing, his fists balled up at his sides, his tail lashing wildly behind him as he looked down at Piccolo.

Piccolo clenched his jaw tightly. This was going so poorly. He didn't know why he expected Goten to understand and accept it. But there was one thing he hadn't counted on happening: Goten loved him. As far as he knew, no one had ever loved him, let alone told him. But Goten did. Not for the first time in his life, Piccolo was completely at a loss for what to do next. His heart pounded within his chest, his mind rapidly turning over this new development. Goten loved him... yet Piccolo was just going to leave and turn his back on that. Maybe he -was- insane.

Swallowing hard, Goten forced his tail to re-wrap itself around his waist. The silence had been too long, and he wasn't entirely sure he'd be able to -not- cry at any moment. Goten just couldn't bear to hear those words actually coming out of Piccolo's mouth. If he left now, at least he'd still have his pride and dignity. No longer wanting to hear the other man tell him he didn't love him, he turned away from Piccolo slowly and began walking towards the door. Just as he reached the door, he heard something else that made him stop.

"Goten, don't."

"Why shouldn't I?" Goten asked softly. He couldn't help the tears rimming his eyes, but he could keep them out of his voice. "It's clear you don't want me here. I think your silence has said enough."

Piccolo stood abruptly. "Don't leave."

"Why -not-?" It came out as more of a growl than a question.

What was he going to say? Piccolo really didn't want Goten to leave. At night while they slept, he could at least pretend he wasn't leaving, and he could hold Goten and keep him close, keep him where he needed him. '_Tell him,_' Piccolo's inner voice demanded. '_You can tell him now. Don't let him go. Everything you have ever truly wanted is right -there-. You can't lose him. Not now. TELL HIM!_'

"I need you," Piccolo whispered.

With one blink, the tears slid down Goten's face. "You need me? Why?"

Suddenly, Goten was tightly enveloped by Piccolo's long limbs, the green male setting his chin on the demi-saiyajin's shoulder. "I need you... because I'm in love with you," Piccolo confessed. "I don't want to leave, but I have to. And I wasn't distancing myself just to spare you. I'm sparing myself as well."

Piccolo was in love with -him-? It couldn't be. But... Piccolo had said it. He'd said those words Goten never really thought that he'd hear or that the words would be true. Yet the honesty in the taller male's voice couldn't be ignored. Piccolo loved him. Heart pounding in his chest, hope and despair battling each other in desperation for triumph over his soul, Goten asked, the soft tone barely covering the underlying demand, "Then why are you leaving me?"

"I -have- to leave. I -have- to. Don't you understand it's harder to leave when I'm with you? To know I -have- to go back to a world that -doesn't- have you, -YOU-, in it? But I have an obligation to my world. It's my duty. When I'm with you, I don't want to go back. Because I -love- you."

"I understand," the prince murmured. He leaned back into Piccolo, reveling for as long as he could in the feeling of the taller man's body pressed against his backside. "I know you're leaving. I do understand why. But I still love you. This has been the best year of my life. I want to remember it. Please don't ruin it."

"I don't want it to hurt more than it already does," Piccolo admitted. He tightened his arms around Goten, only the thin cloth of their apparel separating their bodies. Burying his face in the younger man's neck, he breathed deeply, further memorizing his scent, the way he felt, and the way he made him feel.

Goten rested his head against Piccolo's, his eyes falling shut. "I want to stay with you until you leave. Like we were before. Don't 'spare' me. Don't spare yourself. Just love me, and let me love you."

Piccolo raised his head up just enough to rest his lips on the place where Goten's neck met his shoulders. Giving in to something he'd wanted to do for what seemed like ages, he kissed the spot. And then again, only a bit higher up on the demi-saiyajin's neck than before. And again. Slowly placing small, open-mouthed kisses up Goten's neck, he finally reached the younger male's jaw line.

Goten turned and tilted his head to press his lips to Piccolo's, his body quickly following suit. Wrapping his arms around the taller man's neck and shoulders, he poured every ounce of emotion behind his previous words into that kiss. His tail swung behind him, low at first before curling up anxiously behind him. He had wanted this for a long time, forever it seemed. And he knew that this kind of hunger, this burning need for Piccolo's kiss and touch, would never be satiated. How Piccolo ever thought that he would be forgotten was a mystery, and Goten knew it was one that he would never figure out.

Piccolo clutched at the smaller male, wanting nothing more than to be able to spend eternity with him. He knew that he couldn't, though; but Goten had asked not to be spared. To go with this hunger, until it consumed them both. He felt the prince's smaller hands tugging at the back of his head, pulling at him. Moving his hands to grasp the hybrid's rear, it was very easy to simply lift Goten off the ground and pull him up to Piccolo's level.

For Goten, this was better. This was much better. His dark eyes had been closed since the embrace, and he refused to let them open, praying that this wasn't a dream from his broken mind. He wrapped his legs around Piccolo's waist, his tail around a strong forearm, and one arm around a green shoulder. He could feel Piccolo moving, and made a sound of protest. He didn't want Piccolo to move, to do anything that would jar them out of this moment.

Piccolo landed against the wall that divided the parlor from his bedroom, but in a way so as not to pin Goten's legs or arms. He wanted this. They both did. He could feel Goten's desire pressed into him, and he knew that he was in just as much need. He wanted to lose himself to the moment, but the sense of responsibility and control was so much a part of him now that, even in that heat, he couldn't forget that there were still things that needed to be done. Breaking the kiss, he leaned his head back so that he could look at the hunger in Goten's face even as the prince's eyes fluttered open. "Goten?"

"Don't stop. Don't you dare stop," Goten rasped, tightening his hold.

"I just want to know how far we -can- take this," Piccolo ground out, knowing that he had to ask before things went too far for both of them.

"Bedroom," Goten replied before leaning forward and placing his own scorching, open-mouthed kisses along the exposed skin of Piccolo's clavicle.

"Goten," Piccolo warned, narrowing his eyes at the impertinence of the prince, though it wasn't effective considering how strained the older male's voice sounded.

"I love you, Piccolo. And I want you. All of you. As much as I can get for as long as I can have you. Selfish, I know. Weak, yes. But, dammit, I do," Goten murmured as he buried his head into the curve of Piccolo's neck.

"If it is a weakness, then it is one I share as well," Piccolo replied, spinning off the wall and through the entry way into his bedroom. He knelt on the bed, Goten still wrapped tightly around him, and called out to the room, "Lights, dim."

"Huh?" Goten asked as he felt Piccolo's hands slip under his shirt and across the skin of his back.

"I want to see you," Piccolo replied in a deep, sultry voice. "I want to see you as you lay under me. I want to see your every emotion, your every expression. I want to see everything there is to see. I want to remember. And I want you to see me. Because I want you to remember me."

At the tone in the green warrior's voice, Goten's entire body shivered. His mouth was dry and his palms were suddenly very sweaty. And he knew that there wasn't a single place he would rather be. There was fear, but there was also excitement and anticipation. He was almost high with the dizzying cocktail of emotions. Rasping his reply, "As if I could forget."

Piccolo grinned at that, slowly stripping the younger male of his shirt. Then came the belted sash and the shoes. With each item removed, Piccolo allowed himself the luxury of touching every exposed patch of flesh that he could. Until finally, Goten was left in nothing more than his own self-consciousness.

With a restraint of which the taller warrior hadn't been aware, he laid the prince down on the bed, looking at him. He tried to memorize the difference in their skin tones as he ran his hands over as much of the tailed prince as he could, even while he still knelt between Goten's parted legs.

Not that he had any problems, per se, with Piccolo's hands roaming all over his body, because he didn't, but he wanted more. "Piccolo--"

"Shh," Piccolo said, placing two fingers over the prince's still parted lips. "One more moment."

The prince closed his eyes in sensuous pleasure as sharp nails skimmed teasingly soft over his skin, circling along the edges of his nipples before gently raking lower. And then Piccolo was leaning closer, dipping his head and tracing the small pink lines with quick, butterfly soft kisses. Gasping softly, Goten placed one hand at the back of Piccolo's head while the other draped over a green shoulder blade even as sharp teeth and clever tongue played across overly sensitive nipples, first one and then the other. '_Gods!_' This heaven at the same time was hell, because even though he was getting more than he had ever hoped for, he still wanted more.

For Piccolo, food had never been a demand, but it was one of those things he had always thought that he needed to survive. It wasn't until he had died and his friends had gone to Namek and met with Dende that it was revealed that Nameks only needed water to survive. He still ate food. He enjoyed flavors. And he was quickly losing himself to the many flavors of one Prince Goten. He made sure to scrape his sharp fangs delicately over the assuaged nipples as he released them, causing them to pucker rapidly again, eliciting sharp hisses of pleasure from the tailed youth below him. '_Tail... Hmmm..._' Piccolo smirked as he snatched at the agitated appendage.

Goten began to gently writhe under Piccolo's hungry hands and mouth. When his tail was touched, his first reaction was to become utterly still, but his body refused to acknowledge what his brain was screaming. And then the hand that was as gentle as it was strong began to ruffle the fur against the grain, causing the prince to arch up, thrusting his hips forward and allowing Piccolo the chance to pet him all the way to its base. When a sharp fingernail managed to pass directly between the two scent glands located on the furless underside of his tail, Goten couldn't help the jagged cry that echoed in the room, or the way he naturally clung to the stronger warrior. His hips began to move in jerking thrusts, forward to rub against Piccolo's abdomen, and back to Piccolo's hand.

He had to be insane, that was the only logical reason of which Piccolo could think for the absolute inability to stop. He leaned forward, pressing Goten back down to the mattress with his weight and slanted his mouth over the prince's. He wanted this. He wanted this and more, and it frightened him. Terrified him. How much would ever be enough? Or could he get enough? He plundered the younger man's mouth, whimpering softly as Goten returned his hunger with a ravishing need all his own. With regret, Piccolo broke the kiss, to stare down at the shivering warrior beneath him.

Goten stared up at the naked longing in clear eyes. For that alone, he knew he could wait, if only for a little while. And then Piccolo was moving, away from him, to lean over the bed. When the taller warrior returned, he had a small jar in his hand and an intense expression on his face. "Piccolo?"

"Are you sure you want this?" the larger man whispered. "We don't have to do this."

The young prince reached one hand up, caressing Piccolo's cheek. "All I want is you. This... is you. Please."

"As you like, but first..." Piccolo said, finally dismissing his own confining clothes. He watched in silent appraisal as Goten's eyes roamed over him where he sat.

'_Whoa. Wow._' Goten thought to himself, his mouth suddenly too dry to say anything. His heartbeat was pounding in his ears. Piccolo was just as aroused as he was, but... he was so much -larger-. Suddenly, the urge to reach out and touch the man was more than the prince could even think of refusing. He sat up, desire making his dry mouth water. Gently, he held his hand out, his fingers almost touching the emerald skin. As if suddenly realizing that Piccolo was too good for him, Goten found that he couldn't actually bring himself to touch the stronger warrior, too intimidated and afraid and unworthy. But that didn't stop him from wanting. With unabashed desire, he looked up into Piccolo's eyes. "I want you. All of you. Please. Have me. I'm all I've got to give."

"All right," Piccolo nodded and smiled, relieved. He pulled Goten closer, so that the younger male was straddling him, with his legs wrapped around Piccolo's waist, sitting in his lap. Opening the jar with a deft twist of its lid, both watched as oil slid from the opened container into Piccolo's green palm. Not meeting Goten's eyes, Piccolo found that he had to explain himself. "I should warn you, I've never done this before."

"Huh?!" Goten's breath was a sharp intake. He had thought that perhaps Piccolo was worldly, more experienced than him. It was a shock, to put it mildly, to discover that his green god was as much in the dark as he was in this instance. Smiling, his entire soul suffused with pride and pleasure, he let his fingers skim up to Piccolo's antennae. A blush spilt across his pale cheeks and nose as he whispered, amazed, "You could've been anywhere in the world, but here you are... with me."

"There's no place I'd rather be," Piccolo replied, his voice dipping with his own emotions. He placed an impassioned kiss over Goten's parted lips, not wanting to speak further, not knowing what to say. He trailed his oiled hands down Goten's lithe body, one hand stopping at the hard arousal that demanded attention even as the other continued.

Goten screamed, actually screamed, into the kiss as Piccolo touched his sex. Its single eye was already weeping, whether it was from joy or need was anyone's guess. He clutched at Piccolo's shoulders, nails digging into green flesh. This was right. This was what he wanted. This was who he wanted. Even as he gave in to his body's demand to move into each lazy stroke of Piccolo's hand, he felt a single finger enter him. He barely paid it any mind, too focused on the hand at his shaft, but his tail wrapped around the lower wrist, keeping it there yet not immobilizing it.

Piccolo had always been a quick learner, a fact that had helped him stay alive. He had studied the many, many, many resources the palace library had to offer him. And when he was done with the non-fiction, he moved on to erotica, learning as much as he could. He only hoped that he was able to give his lover half the pleasure that he wanted to give. Concentrating on two tasks at the same time was difficult, much less three, with Goten writhing against his own desire, all the while making the strangest, most exotic noises, but he knew that if he wanted Goten to have any real pleasure he was going to have to prepare him.

Goten gasped as a second finger entered him, stretching him. He broke the kiss, arching into Piccolo even as his head fell back. Piccolo was doing something, touching something inside of him, and it was causing the oddest sensations to pulse through him in time with the emerald fingers stroking him inside as well as outside. He began to babble, what he was saying he had no clue, but at the same time he didn't care. He had resilience to pain, knowing from an early age what it was and becoming its friend. Pleasure... he was not as familiar with. And this was a level of pleasure he had never thought could exist.

It was becoming too much for Piccolo, the once demon-once god. With a low rumble of need, he gently leaned forward, resting Goten down on the bed, removing the hand that was preparing his lover. Goten whined in protest, jerking his head to the side. The taller warrior kissed the exposed skin just under the youth's ear and whispered, "I'm sorry. I can't wait any longer."

Piccolo added a bit of oil to his hand to smooth over his own shaft before guiding it to Goten's warmth. With a quick prayer to whatever served as this earth's god, Piccolo slid forward. The prince hissed in sharp pain, tightening his muscles. He squeezed his eyes shut, knowing that he'd endure this and more if he had to. His tail had allowed Piccolo to remove his hand and now was wrapped around the larger man's rear, pressing him forward, demanding more speed.

Piccolo buried himself halfway before beginning to withdraw, gritting his teeth tightly together against the almost overwhelming need to plunge all the way forward. When only the tip of his sex remained within the prince, Piccolo slid in again, deeper this time, faster; but again withdrew before he was fully embedded. He continued to repeat the process, over and over and over again, thrusting further yet somehow with less pain each time. Until, amazingly, he was embedded completely. He stilled in his movements, savoring the feel of the heat surrounding him, bucking into him, writhing around him as Goten continued to move, too lost to his own body's demands.

And then Goten was crying, his seed spilling forth, draining his sanity and energy away as it left him. He couldn't last, giving in even though Piccolo had yet to reach orgasm. In the aftershock of climax, his entire body felt like the heaviest of exotic metals. He closed his eyes in exhaustion and pleasure and a bit of shame as Piccolo leaned down and placed a rather chaste kiss on his forehead. "Gods, I'm sorry, Piccolo..."

"Don't be." Piccolo's voice rumbled more than thunder at that moment, and Piccolo felt the prince's entire body shiver because of it. The Demon Lord smiled down at the large eyes of his younger lover and began to move. Slowly, savoring each new sensation that rose up to overtake the last, Piccolo lost himself to the moment, abandoned himself to his own need. Easily, he moved to capture Goten's hands in his, entangling their fingers together, raising the prince's arms over his head.

Goten's eyes fluttered open before he closed them again, too intent on the sensations still pulsing through his system. He found that it was more natural to go with Piccolo's rhythm than to simply fall asleep, especially since his body didn't want to stop moving. Even more strange, it seemed that even with his climax, his body remained at least partially aroused and growing more so with each passing moment.

Piccolo leaned his head forward, allowing his antennae to brush into Goten's sweaty hair. He could feel Goten's renewed... interest pressing against him. He kept his movements steady, never fast or hard or anything that his body was begging him to give in to. This was both of their first times, and it had to be memorable. He smiled, flashing fangs, as he watched the variety of expressions flit across the demi-saiyajin's face. He could feel something low in his abdomen coiling, tightening, even as alarms began to scream in his head that something was about to occur, something new and potentially dangerous, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do to stop it. "Goten…"

"Piccolo!" Goten gasped, surging forward, meeting Piccolo's suddenly faster, harsher thrusts with reckless pleasure. And then Piccolo was kissing him, a kiss that was more carnal than any of its predecessors, a ravishment of the prince, who was more than willing. And then, the submissive male felt Piccolo's seed spill -into- him, heating him from the inside. The kiss, instead of breaking, became even more passionate, as if Piccolo was trying to taste himself through Goten's mouth. The younger male couldn't stop the shallow, helpless forward thrusts that continued to rack his body, even as he felt Piccolo leave his body.

Fully aware that Goten was still in need, Piccolo began to rub his bare body against the prince's, using that friction to bring his lover to climax for a second time. Breaking the kiss, Goten began to whimper softly with each thrust, wanting it, needing it. "Gods, I'm already addicted..."

"Goten... I love you," Piccolo purred, his mouth just over Goten's ear and his voice at the octave that he knew drove the younger prince crazy. He dipped his head slightly, tracing his tongue over the ridge of a pale ear. Gently, he clamped his sharp teeth over the lobe, suckling between his fangs.

Goten cried out, his scream of climax reverberating off the walls of the room like ripples in a small body of water. His entire body arched off the bed and into Piccolo's, before becoming as lax as liquid. He lay panting on the bed, exhausted and shivering and wet. And entirely too pleased with himself. When he was finally able to get enough air to his brain to form words again, he rasped out, "Gods."

"Goten?"

"He's not in right now. Please leave a message," the prince answered weakly, dazed. 

Piccolo's rumbling laughter followed the prince into a deep sleep, deeper than he'd ever been before, deeper than he'd ever allowed himself to go. Deep sleeps were for the dead or those wishing to be dead. But wrapped up in Piccolo's embrace, it was hard not to fall into that oblivion. He didn't mind the not dreaming. After all, he was already living a dream.

It wouldn't occur to Goten until much later in the day, after the sun had risen and he'd begun his daily chore of running the Trans-galactic Empire in his father's absence, that it was Gohan's birthday. Usually, his brother would get whatever he wanted on his birthday, but not this year. It was Goten who had gotten what Gohan really wanted.

***

Promptly at half past 6 in the morning, 17 let himself back into Piccolo's suite, as he had been accustomed to doing for the past three weeks. But something was different this morning. No sooner had the door shut behind him than had the android been nearly overwhelmed by the scent of sex hanging very heavily in the air. Slowly, 17 adjusted his eyesight to account for the darkness of the suite. Moving towards the bed, he could make out two very distinctive and very naked figures asleep and tangled up with each other and the sheets. '_It's about time,_' 17 smiled to himself.

The android guard stepped back out into the hallway and maintained his guard position from there, with his back to the door, making sure it was locked. Prince Goten was always gone by the time 17 returned to his post, but not this time, and the synthetic male decided that perhaps the prince would not be leaving early from now on. '_Not now that they've..._' 17's amused smile broadened into a certifiable grin, something he typically reserved only for Trunks. He heard steps approaching from the lift, and after he'd double-checked that the door behind him was secured, he moved to intercept the person whom he knew to be his relief guard.

"Gamma," 17 nodded.

The guard 17 had always regarded as 'one of a thousand clones' halted, then bowed in respect to the high-level guard. "Sir."

"Your services as my relief guard will not be required today," 17 said, his voice as cold and calm as it had ever been. "Later today, you will receive news as to whether your services are further required."

"Sir?" questioned Gamma.

17 folded his arms across his chest and glowered at the guard. "Prince Goten will be deciding today whether you, Sigma, and Theta will remain on relief duty for me, 18, and Vegeta. I believe he wishes to make better use of your services in Lord Kakarrot's absence."

"Yes, of course, sir," the guard said, bowing. "Thank you, sir."

The raven-haired android remained planted where he stood until he heard the lift move away. "Imbecile," he snorted.

Walking back to his position in front of Piccolo's door, he checked the time on his scouter. '_Just after 7..._' 17 tilted his head to the side, to see if he could hear any sounds from inside, but then he remembered the rooms on Level 10 were soundproof for the most part. Huffing slightly, he then smiled, shaking his head. '_I guess I'd better get used to this._'


	19. Checkpoint

_Disclaimer- I, Summer Starr, and my co-conspirator Deani, own Jack Shite of DBZ. Some doubt our having any sense (or sensibility), too. I, actually, have no cents or sense of smell, so I guess they're partially right. We are like the two Drama Masks, one for comedy and one for tragedy. We balance, I think, especially since we appreciate the same things._  
  
_Warnings- There be YAOI here! And fluff. And romance. And angst. And sweetness. And lemony goodness between two HOTT guys._  
  
**Kingdom Come**  
_~ Chapter 19_  
  


"... And then, SPLOOSH! His head was all over the place. The really gross part came afterwards when Guldo's body, like, -imploded-. Seriously gross," Prince Gohan nodded as he shoveled more of his dinner into his mouth.

Goten sat at the other end of the table, calmly picking at the food on his own plate. "Well, those Karillian worms do tend to have that effect on Guldo's kind," he remarked.

"It was truly spectacular," the elder prince went on, gesturing with a spoon. "But the remains. Did you know his muscles are spongy? And nearly impossible to remove from a uniform."

"That's good, brother," Goten said, grimacing. "Keep talking about innards while I'm trying to digest my meal. That's... great."

Gohan paused for a moment, staring at his food as if forcibly trying to keep an image of Guldo's bloody bits out of his head. Gagging a bit, he finally concurred, "Yeah, okay."

"So," the younger demi-saiyajin began, clearing his throat. "How was the rest of the trip? I didn't hear much news from you. Our father reports more than you. That's really quite sad."

"Yeah, well, I was kinda busy blowing shit up," Gohan grinned. "Where is the old man now anyway?"

"With his mistress," replied Goten. "He hasn't set foot out of her quarters in the two weeks since you've returned. I saw him briefly today, however. Hence why I was so busy this afternoon. Preparations for some big party."

"Ooh. A party?" Gohan queried. "I haven't heard anything about a party. What's it for?"

"Who knows? He made some vague reference to an announcement, but otherwise..." The youth shook his head nonchalantly.

"Well, a party is a party, and I love a good party." Gohan finished off the bowl in front of him, accepting the new one placed in front of him by a servant. "Oh, by the way, did you hear? I got to purge four -entire- systems. FOUR! I was thinking that, maybe, I'd get to clear out just one. But four made it so much better."

"I'm sure that's excellent news for the empire," Goten commented, picking up his glass of wine and sipping gingerly from it.

"Of course it is," nodded the elder sibling. "Made the whole trip worthwhile, in fact."

"I see," Goten smirked. "It even made up for the cancellation of your annual birthday soiree?"

Gohan's brow furrowed deeply, his fork rising and then dropping for a moment. He looked over at his younger brother, thinking. "Almost."

"Almost? Was your birthday unpleasant? I mean, I -saw- the crew you chose."

"Eh. I threw my own party, as you are obviously aware. It wasn't the same," Gohan shrugged.

Goten's eyebrows rose higher even as his brother's lowered further. "Do tell."

"Oh, well, I fucked them all, of course. It just wasn't the same," sighed the elder prince. He tossed his fork down noisily to his plate, signaling one of the servants to refill his glass. He glared at the pitcher that appeared before him, as if merely staring at it would cause it to burst into flames. "There was no intensity, no passion. They were all so... easy. Pathetic. No challenge. No fire. A little boring. Even the satisfaction wasn't as... satisfying. Something was missing."

"I don't understand," his brother stated. "Not that I particularly care to hear about your sexual escapades with your crew, but... It isn't like you to speak disdainfully about your favorite pastime."

"They weren't what I wanted," Gohan replied, rubbing his hands over his face, as if suddenly tired.

"Go on," prompted Goten.

"None of them compared to Piccolo."

Goten clenched his jaw tightly behind his wine glass, thankful for the dim candlelight of the dining room. He twirled the crystal goblet for a moment, before taking a sip. Pulling the drink away, his voice was smooth, betraying nothing of what he was thinking. "That's also not like you. To stay interested in someone for so long. I would have thought you would've moved on by now."

"What is it about him, Goten?" Gohan mused, resting an elbow on the table and cupping his chin in his hand. "I am no closer to him than I was ten months ago. I even -lost- to him in the tournament! I still can't believe that, really. Yet, I want him even more, if that's possible. He completely ruined my birthday, and he wasn't even there!"

"Perhaps that's why," suggested the younger prince. "The unattainable always seems more... attractive because of its elusiveness."

"I'm still determined to have him at some point," stressed Gohan, sitting up straight. There was strength again in his voice, transforming him from a lovesick adolescent and into the vicious warrior he was. "It will happen."

"Now, -that- sounds like you." '_Over my dead body!_' Goten half grinned, hiding the lurching in his stomach. He loved his brother, really he did, but that didn't stop the sickening thought, or the knowledge that Gohan would kill him if he ever found out that Piccolo was already attached. To him.

"So, anyway, forget my birthday." The older male reached across his dish to grab a bread roll. "How was yours? No different than any other day, I'd guess. You didn't even get to have dinner with me like we do every year for your birthday."

Goten used sipping his wine as an excuse not to answer promptly. He'd celebrated his birthday, all right, but it wasn't -anything- about which he could've told his brother. Especially not after Gohan just reaffirmed his 'commitment' to the Demon Lord. However, a bold-faced lie would not suffice either. Clearing his throat and steadying himself, he replied, "On the contrary. I had dinner with our Demon Lord Piccolo for my birthday."

Prince Gohan froze, a spoonful of food halfway to his mouth. Disbelief consumed his entire face. "What."

"Did I slur my speech?" Goten asked, trying to keep the mocking out of his voice. "I had dinner. With Piccolo. For my birthday."

Gohan clenched his fists under the table. Just what the hell was going -on- here?! Piccolo wasn't supposed to be having dinners with -Goten-! The venom clearly seeped into his next question. "And just how did you manage to finagle that?"

"I asked him. He accepted my invitation."

"Why did you ask -him- of all people?" Gohan seethed.

"I grew tired of eating alone," the youth said, keeping his demeanor low-key and aloof. "It was my birthday. Piccolo was the only being around of any class or nobility. He was the obvious choice."

"And how was it?" There was no mistaking the acerbic tone in the elder prince's voice.

"It was... dinner," Goten shrugged, hoping to make it seem as if he was dismissing the topic altogether, praying his brother thought he took no pleasure in his birthday 'celebration' with the green male.

"Huh," Gohan sounded, looking at his brother closely. After a moment, though, he realized at whom he was glaring, whom he was suspecting. Grinning slightly, he shrugged it off. This was, after all, -Goten-. His little brother. The Virgin of the family. Like he would even -try- for Piccolo. And besides, his brother knew how much he wanted the green warrior. It wasn't as if he'd made a secret of it, anyway. Goten wouldn't do anything to get in the way of his plans. Simply put, Goten didn't have the drive, the need, nor the desire to interfere with his hunts. "Whatever. I wish I'd been here. You could have at least enjoyed yourself."

"As you say, brother," Goten smiled. He picked up his wine glass, staring down into the liquid contents. He didn't have to explain to his brother that he had enjoyed his birthday. Immensely.

The day had started badly. Royal problems here and there that weren't that complicated yet took more time than they should have. Then there were other minor problems, court problems and palace problems and problems occurring across planet. Details that he had to take care of before they became larger problems. Stressful, and taxing. As such, he was late getting to his room and preparing for dinner. He had just gotten dressed when the chime to his room sounded. Sighing in exasperation, he opened the door with a gutteral growl. Which just added to his embarrassment when he discovered that the person on the other side of the door was Piccolo.

"You are late," Piccolo said, his arms crossed over his chest. He was wearing the same outfit he wore at the emperor's return home party, just before the tournament. 

"I'm almost ready," Goten replied, his mouth watering at the sight of his lover.

"Almost?" the namek asked, tilting his head in a predatorily manner.

"Um, yeah... I just wanted to brush my hair," Goten said, stepping back into the room. He walked over to his dresser and picked up the brush, as if to show the larger male what he was talking about. Feeling a bit stupid he pointed to it, and then to his unruly hair. He couldn't help it, though. Just the facts that Piccolo was in his room, looking more than edible, was waiting on him, and was going to be eating dinner with him had the youngest prince's senses scattered.

Piccolo grinned at the younger man, charmed by how cute he could be when he wasn't in control of himself. He easily plucked the brush from Goten's hand and spun the prince around. With strong, even strokes, he began to groom the demi-saiyajin. He was very much aware of the tail that uncurled from where it was around the prince and then proceeded to curl around his leg.

Goten closed his eyes, enraptured. He knew he had been in a bad mood before, but having Piccolo brush his hair... His mood was improving with each brush stroke. He began to purr softly as he felt the brush slide through his hair, scraping along his scalp softly. The only thing that'd make this even better was if he'd been able to lean against the larger male. Striking upon that idea, Goten turned and wrapped his arms around Piccolo's torso, trying to snuggle as best as he could.

Piccolo, never having hair and totally unaware of the effects that grooming had on mammals, was a bit taken aback by how quickly the prince turned willing. With a tilt of his head, he continued to brush the youth's hair as best as he could before finally giving the task up. With a soft click, he put the brush down. They remained there for a moment, enjoying the feel of the other. But like all good things, even this had to come to an end. "Goten?"

"Hmmm?"

"We're going to be -very- late. The food..."

With a groan of frustration, Goten moved away from the larger male. They exited his room, moving just down the hall to the larger male's. Piccolo had somehow arranged for a very private dinner. Upon entrance to the room, the first thing that Goten had taken note of was the complete lack of chairs and table. And the food was spread out on dishes on the floor. "Um, Piccolo...?"

With a grin, the larger green male pulled him forward and across his lap. What transpired over the next few hours was one of the most intimate meals Goten had ever been a part of. Piccolo and he had hand fed each other, though he ate far more than the larger man. Strangely enough, it had also been one of the most luxurious dinners he had ever eaten, and the prince easily relaxed into the moment.

"You know, I feel like a pampered pet," Goten said just before he opened his mouth to accept a strawberry.

"Oh?" Piccolo replied, popping the small fruit into the younger man's mouth. Just as Goten's teeth scraped over his fingertips, Piccolo moved.

"If you'd prefer to be treated like an abused pet -- having dinner offered and then stolen again -- I can arrange that," Piccolo remarked, his voice rumbling, causing a shiver to pass through Goten. A dark tail that had been wrapped around Piccolo's waist unwrapped to puff behind the prince in a large question mark, its tip jerking slightly.

"I can take any kind of abuse you can dish out," Goten replied, his dark eyes glazing over slightly. 

Goten realized too late that there are things, like Fate, that one should never tempt. By the end of the night, his throat had been raw from laughing and screaming. He was still unsure from -where- Piccolo had pulled the feather. Could he create those from thin air as well? Just what was the limit of that particular gift?

"...and it's just all fun and games when someone loses an eye," Gohan smirked.

Goten tapped his glass for a servant to add more wine. How long had Gohan been yammering on while he was lost in his own memories of his birthday? It could've been any amount of time.

"But anyway," the elder prince grinned, chewing on a piece of meat. "Got any juicy gossip? Substantial stuff, not total bullshit."

"There are always bits of interesting news floating about," Goten said flatly.

"Okay, so spill." Gohan's reply was muffled by the new bite of food he'd shoved in his mouth.

"Jeice and Burter are expecting," noted the younger demi-saiyajin, gracefully dabbing at his lips after setting his fork down.

"Expecting what?"

"A child."

"From where? Is it one of their nephews or something?"

"No, you dolt. They've having a child. A baby. That comes from both of their genetic material."

"WHAT?" Gohan asked incredulously. "How? Aren't they both male?"

"Jeice has a, um..." Prince Goten frowned, not exactly certain of how to proceed. "His specific race of being is... He has a pouch that allows him to carry babies."

"A pouch," repeated the older brother. "Like one of those big hoppy things down south?"

"Precisely," nodded Goten. "Very similar situation, in fact."

Gohan made a sour face. "Blech. That is gonna be one ugly kid. But, oh, well. I guess not everyone can have children who turn out looking like me."

"... Uh-huh." Listening to his brother babble on about a number of topics ranging from the recent flooding to new ships being built to planet purging to fashion, Goten merely smiled and nodded the whole time. Finally, he noted the time in his scouter. 11:15! Standing abruptly, he downed the contents of his wine glass and bowed slightly to his brother. "Well, it was nice chatting with you, Gohan, but I'm exhausted. Good night."

"What the hell was that all about?" Gohan simply sat at the table, watching his younger sibling race off. Goten was his brother, and no one was closer to him than the younger demi-saiyajin, but there was still that lingering bit of... discontent. Piccolo had accepted Goten's invitation! And yet, the green man still had yet to come to -HIS- bed! Gohan sat, staring at nothing, trying to figure out a way to get closer to the elusive warrior.

***

Piccolo's eyes shifted through the hallway, conscious that he was not supposed to be there. Yet, no one opposed him or his guard as they walked down the Level 7 corridor. Even if they were stopped, they had a plausible excuse to be there. 17 would be merely retrieving something from his room, something that he needed for the following day, and it wasn't as if he could simply leave Piccolo behind. It was merely a coincidence that the human, Yamcha, shared the same level as the android guard. And the same hallway. It was highly doubtful that Lord Kakarrot thought about it when picking out rooms. Either that, or he just didn't care.

They arrived at Yamcha's room without incident and easily stepped inside. It wasn't as if any of the lower ranked officials' doors were locked to 17, who was the emperor's right hand man. And though Yamcha was on the same level as 17, it was more due to the fact that 17 didn't want a higher room. These rooms were easier for Trunks to break into.

The door hissed open, allowing the Demon Lord and his raven-haired guard admittance. They walked in on a normal scene, but Piccolo noticed the slight bruising of Yamcha's lower lip, and he knew that it wasn't caused by a punch. He also took note that Vegeta's tail was curled up behind him in a similar fashion to Prince Goten's tail when he was happy or relaxed.

Piccolo knew that Vegeta was supposed to come with them when they left for home. He had found out through Trunks, who had spoken with Krillin. He had also been asked by Yamcha, himself, when they passed each other in the halls one day. As far as the Demon Lord was concerned, Vegeta was welcome to leave this universe and travel back with them. If it was permitted. There were still a great many rules about the mirror that remained mysteries. And mysteries tended to get people killed, as far as Piccolo was concerned.

Before any greetings could be given, a strange sound shattered the silence of the room. Then, the grating over the ventilation shaft popped open. Out of the shadows in the wall, Trunks spilt out like liquid curiosity, immediately moving away from the wall and over to where Piccolo and 17 were standing. Then out of the recess, Krillin fell out. Piccolo moved to stand against a wall as Yamcha and Vegeta took over the sofa. Krillin, upon gaining his feet while laughing, moved to take the only chair. The dark-haired android remained close to the door, and Trunks was sitting on the floor close to his feet.

"Told you I'd get you here on time," Trunks grinned. He had been the one to offer to bring Krillin up from the lower levels. The only condition had been that 18 couldn't be anywhere around. That, it turned out, wasn't a problem, as 17 knew just how to get rid of her. It seemed that an old flame of hers, some interstellar musician, had returned to Earth for a while, and had invited her to stay with him for the day. No one knew what kind of strings 17 had pulled to get the man there, but it worked and that was all they really cared about.

"Yeah, I guess so," Krillin grinned as he looked at all the others. "So, what's up? Why go through all the danger of calling a meeting?"

"Because we're going to be leaving in a couple of months and we don't have any other time that we can get together without causing suspicion," Piccolo replied. "I want to make sure that nothing -unexpected- occurs. Now, let's go over the plan as it stands."

"All right," Krillin nodded as he spread out a printed out map. "Our destination is here."

"Which is about a four-hour flight if we travel the fastest that the slowest among us goes," Yamcha said, his eyes saying that he knew Vegeta was going to be the slowest among them and he wasn't going to let them leave the saiyajin behind.

"Right," Piccolo nodded, looking at the map. "There are monitors here," he indicated, "and here and scattered throughout this mountain range. They seem to have a bit of difficulty when it comes to watching all the cracks and crannies of the rough terrain. Ironic that we're going to have to go to the bowels of the earth to get to the mirror when it was at the Look-out before."

"How are we going to get past them?" Vegeta asked, studying the map closely. He had tried to escape many times and each time he was brought back defeated. This had been a concern for them since they had started planning.

"We're going to have to time it just right," Piccolo said. "From what I've been able to uncover, this area's surveillance is offline for about an hour so they can change the discs."

The others looked at Piccolo, 17 included, but it was only Yamcha who was able to blurt out the obvious question, "When did you discover this?"

"And is your source reliable?" Vegeta inquired, questioning more the validity than the actual technique.

"The source is -very- reliable," Piccolo slowly responded. He was put off-guard by the look of clear astonishment on most of their faces, as if they didn't want to question him yet couldn't help it.

"Who is your source?" Trunks asked, knowing that the information given was stuff even -he- wasn't aware of.

The Demon Lord debated whether or not to admit to who was supplying him with information, doubly so since the young prince didn't even know he was doing it at the time. But in the end, all their questioning stares won out, and he had to prove how trustworthy his data was. "Prince Goten."

There was shocked silence for a moment, each of the gathered trying to figure out why the youngest prince would volunteer that kind of information, or what Piccolo had to do to get it. Several ideas popped into their heads, but it was Krillin who gasped in shock, spluttering, "Aw, man! You SLEPT with him, didn't you! You -did-!"

Piccolo remained silent, crossing his arms over his chest and stared down at the pint-sized man.

"Actually," 17 intoned, leaning up against the wall behind him, "Piccolo and Prince Goten are still sleeping together."

"WHAT?!" Trunks squeaked, perking up, "You mean they finally--"

"You're sleeping with Prince Goten?" Vegeta gasped, his voice overtaking his son's. This was a shock of monumental proportions. He had suspicions, of course, but no one had ever really thought that the youngest prince would ever take a lover. Ever. And that it was Demon Lord Piccolo, the one man who had beaten the Golden Heir in honorable battle at the tournament... Shocking wasn't really a good enough adjective.

Piccolo's nerves began to grate at the sudden outbursts of each individual in the room.

"17! Why didn't you tell me?!" Trunks asked, standing up. At his full height, he stood as tall as his android lover. He felt a bit off since he had thought 17 knew that he wanted to know if the prince and Piccolo got together.

"That's kinda cool," Yamcha remarked aloud softly, thinking over the idea of how Piccolo got his information, and from whom.

"I can't believe this is happening," Vegeta whispered, stunned. He looked at the others in the room, as if trying to find out if this was all in his head, or if it was real. Trunks seemed a bit annoyed as he looked at 17. Yamcha was clearly stunned. And Krillin was a bit... wound-up.

"Man, I knew it. I -knew- it!" Krillin said, pounding one fist into his hand in agitation. He had figured something like this might happen, he just didn't think that it really -would-.

"Way to go, Piccolo!" Yamcha nodded, congratulating the green man. Though, if he stopped to think about it, the idea that Piccolo -could- have sex was about as appalling and unnerving as finding out one's parents were sexually active. Leaning forward a bit, he began, "Hey, have you found that spot beneath the--"

"Dude! Yamcha!" Krillin shouted. "Straight man, here! I -so- don't want to hear about this!"

"Well, I do! Anyway, have you found that spot?" Yamcha shot back, looking from Krillin and then back to Piccolo. 

Vegeta began to blush a hot pink color across his features, embarrassed that his human lover could just so casually divulge -personal- secrets like that. His tail tightened around his waist in anxiety. As if sensing his state of mind, Yamcha had the audacity to actually touch him, gripping his knee. Vegeta looked at him with incredulous eyes.

"What spot?" 17 queried. '_Curious._' Vegeta's embarrassment was plain to see, and at such a level as to indicate that the topic at hand was one that was extremely personal and extremely NOT for public discussion. Which meant that it was something that might need to be further investigated on his own dear Trunks at a later time.

Switching his attentions over to the android, Yamcha reiterated, "That spot that's, like, right where the tail meets the body. On the underside. It's small and doesn't have fur."

"No," 17 said, an inquisitive look on his face. "What about it?"

"Oh, you totally have to find that spot," nodded the scarred human. "And you'll know it when you do. It makes them really--"

"Would you all shut up?!" the tall, green male finally growled. "This is irrelevant and has nothing to do with our escape."

"True," 17 said, "But it's useful information, nonetheless."

"Yeah," Trunks agreed, knowing full well that he had no clue where Yamcha was talking about. "Do you think everyone who has a tail has that spot?"

"Yes," Vegeta spat out, desperate to change the topic. "Now, I'm with Piccolo. Stop discussing sex, and start discussing escape!"

_'Well, perhaps there are more similarities than we know of,_' Krillin thought with a small smile as he shook his head at the other Vegeta. "I so totally agree. Which is really, really strange. And frightening, in a way."

"Huh?" Vegeta asked, curious.

"You'll understand once we return home," Krillin explained. "Trust me. Once you meet the other Vegeta, a LOT of things will become clearer."

Vegeta was about to comment, but Trunks interrupted. "You're okay with going to their home, meeting the other you?"

"Yes," Vegeta answered.

"But, aren't you slightly afraid of what the other you might be like? I mean, from what I understand, he's very powerful. Commanding. And, you know, a jackass. What if... I mean, wouldn't you want to become like him?" Trunks asked, sitting down on the ground again.

Everyone became quiet in the room, waiting for the answer. After a small pause as Vegeta thought about it, he grinned and shook his head, his tail unwrapping from around his waist to curl up around Yamcha. "No. I'm not afraid of losing myself to envy. The other Vegeta... He has nothing I want."

"Huh," Krillin sounded. "That's very... sweet. And a little disturbing. Two Vegetas... I might just die."

"Why do you say that?" 17 asked.

"I'm going to take the easy way out and say... Some character traits stay the same in every person." Tilting his head to one side, as if mulling over what he just said, the short human nodded. "Yeah."

"You are very strange," Trunks commented without a single note of disapproval in his voice.

"Thanks. I've worked very hard to become so."

"This is useless," Piccolo mumbled. "Are we ever going to get back to the point of this meeting?"

"Oh, lighten up, Piccolo," Krillin snickered. "At least we're not talking about you bedding Goten anymore."

"How -did- that happen?" Vegeta inquired. He had suspected the attraction between the two of them, but with Prince Gohan's overt advances, he thought that Prince Goten wouldn't even make an attempt for the green man. Despite knowing they needed to return to the true purpose of the meeting, the erstwhile saiyajin prince was entirely too curious to let that topic of the Demon Lord and Prince Goten just fall to the wayside. But there was another pressing issue behind his prying. Vegeta considered Piccolo to be very noble and honorable, so his next question expressed his concern. "How did you manage it? Are you only sleeping with him for information?"

"Oh, Piccolo wouldn't do that," Yamcha said, an odd look in his eyes that bespoke of someone who wasn't entirely convinced of their words. Moving his eyes to Piccolo, he asserted, "Right?"

"Of -course- not!" Piccolo yelled, flustered and blushing violet.

"I'll tell you how he managed it," Krillin grinned, enjoying seeing Piccolo squirm in discomfiture, regardless of the fact that this was -not- a topic about which he wanted to talk. Clasping his hands over his heart and batting his eyelashes coquettishly, the bald human jokingly sang, "He loooooooves him! Loves, loves, loves him."

Once the others' snickering died down, Krillin's wide grin slipped off his face. Piccolo remained where he was, leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest, but he was staring at the floor, his face marred with an emotional the shorter male had never seen there before. It wasn't that he'd gone too far; it was that he'd said something that was true. "Aw, crap," he muttered.

Vegeta almost smiled. That explained how it had happened, as well as reaffirmed that Piccolo was indeed the man he thought him to be. '_He's probably the only person in -any- universe who could be able to love Prince Goten. And to have the prince return it? Surely it is returned. Goten would never engage in such activities otherwise. Piccolo truly must be an extraordinary person._'

Yamcha was pretty sure he had a good idea what was going on, and deciding to spare Piccolo from any further mortification, he loudly said, "So, anyway, about that plan..."

"The entire trip, including travel time, should take seven hours," Piccolo stated.

"Seven?" Krillin wondered aloud. "If it's four hours to get to the mirror, then it'd be four back, and that's eight hours."

"We won't be coming back," pointed out the much taller man. "Since we know the Look-out is still in the same place as in our world, we'll be going back there. That would be three hours away."

"Why are we going back to the Look-out?" Yamcha questioned. "The mirror wasn't there, but that's where we arrived."

"We arrive wherever we -are-," Piccolo explained. "If we left from the location of the mirror where it is now, we could very well end up trapped inside a rock or tree or whatever else might be there in our world. So, as I stated earlier, we need to go back to the Look-out because we -know- it's still in the same place in our world, and that's safe."

"What about the sensors there?" asked 17. "It was originally how you were discovered by Jeice."

"It will be taken care of from here," Piccolo replied.

"How?" Trunks queried.

"Arrangements have been made to have the proper sensors shut down for 'maintenance' during the time we'll need to leave."

"He's going to help. Isn't he," the lavender-haired youth stated, rather than asked. Piccolo's nod was all the confirmation Trunks needed. He felt sorry for both Piccolo and Prince Goten, despite the fact that he still did not bear many good tidings towards the slightly younger demi-saiyajin. '_It isn't fair. Goten must really love him... to be able to give him up._'

"When will we leave?" Vegeta asked.

"We'll need to cut it close but not too close," answered Piccolo. "The last day of this year at 4 in the afternoon, giving us a one-hour margin of error, which we should -not- need, but it will be good to have just in case."

"And how will we avoid anyone noticing we're gone?" the short saiyajin continued.

"That is something about which I am not entirely sure." Piccolo turned his gaze upon 17.

"You each spend enough time in your rooms that it would not be odd to not see any of you for an entire day. No one would check up on you," stated the dark-haired android.

"How will our disappearance affect you, 17? Will it cause you much trouble?"

"Not likely, no," the android responded, shaking his head. "Lord Kakarrot has been fairly predictable all of these years. As long as you have done nothing to roust his ire as Guldo did, he won't worry about you if he thinks you are gone for good. They might, however, chase after Vegeta. But if he's with you, and you're gone, they wouldn't find you anyway, so that's all moot. Essentially, I would face no consequences of your departure."

"That's good to know," nodded the taller male.

17 pressed a button on his scouter and addressed Piccolo. "It's nearly 11. We should get back to your room."

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Curfew." Looking around, Yamcha asked, "Is there anything else?"

"No, not unless anyone else has something to say," Piccolo replied.

"Don't look at me, folks," Krillin shrugged. "I got nothing. Everything sounds cool to me."

"All right, then," the namek nodded, following 17 out of the door. "Hopefully, we won't have to meet like this again."

Once Piccolo and 17 had left, Trunks and Krillin had wasted no time in making their own hasty retreat. With Vegeta's tail having come loose from his waist and snaking across the human's lap, Yamcha leaned back against the saiyajin, twirling the tail around his fingers. "It's all starting to come together."

***

The thing about the shadow ways that most people took notice of first was the dust. Granted, Trunks usually made it a point to remain at least partially clean, but sometimes, moving in areas where he normally didn't go, he couldn't help but get dirty. For instance, the corridors between Krillin's room, and Yamcha's room weren't a very good place to hide. Especially the route that took the least amount of time. Thin walls and thick dust. Easy to track through. Yet, he had taken that course tonight because of the meeting.

Sighing, Trunks slipped out of the vent shaft and into 17's room. The android was already there, his arms crossed and a light smile spread across his features. Trunks grinned at him, needlessly saying, "I need a shower."

"Yeah, you do," 17 agreed, almost laughing. "Why, you can't even tell what color hair you have."

"What?" Trunks asked, brushing his hand through his hair, causing a small avalanche of dirt to fall down. Which in turn caused him to sneeze so hard that more dust began to fly. He tried to glare as 17 began to laugh at him. "That's not funny."

"Really? Well, then you should realize the first rule of showering," 17 replied, still amused.

Trunks stared at him a moment, trying to figure out what his lover was thinking. "Are you on something?"

"Heh. Not yet," 17 replied as he stalked towards his prey. "First rule of showering is... you've gotta be naked."

Trunks flushed from head to toes. He stepped back as 17 stepped forward. "Don't. I'm mad at you!"

"Mad at me? Why?" 17 asked as he froze.

"You didn't tell me about Piccolo and Prince Goten!" Trunks said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Oh. That."

"Yes, that!" Trunks huffed crossly. "Why didn't you -tell- me?"

"Because," 17 replied, "I felt that it wasn't something that I should discuss with anyone. Especially since it IS Prince Goten we're talking about. What do you think would happen to you if he found out I told you about his affair with Lord Piccolo?"

"Oh," Trunks sighed, quieted. He uncrossed his arms. "When you put it like that..."

"Yeah," 17 nodded. "So... Are you going to take a shower or not?"

"Heh. Yeah," Trunks answered, easily slipping out of his shirt and tossing it to 17. He watched with curiosity as the android merely stepped back, allowing him to walk towards the shower. Trunks took the opportunity, making sure not to pass to closely to his lover. Quickly, he stripped out of the rest of his clothes and stepped into the shower. He was conscious of 17 still watching him throughout the process. Looking over his shoulder, he called out, "Are you going to watch me the entire time?"

"Is that an invitation?"

Trunks blinked a few times, dipping his head under the spray as he thought. Just thinking of 17 watching him bathe was enough to arouse him. Grinning, he giggled, "Sure, it's an invitation."

"Good. I was hoping you'd say that," 17 replied, his voice dropping.

There was the slight rustle of clothes just before the glass door to the shower slid open and 17 stepped inside. Trunks twirled around, his tail snapping through the air wetly. "17!"

"Yes," the android smiled. "I'm glad to see you know me in every situation."

"What are you DOING?!"

"Well, if you turn around, I'll wash your back," 17 suggested, grabbing the washrag and soap from the ledge behind Trunks. "And after that, I'll be more than happy to wash your hair for you."

Trunks looked at 17 for a moment, as if his lover had suddenly sprouted three extra heads, before shrugging his shoulders and doing as the other wished. He hadn't taken a bath with anyone since he was a mere child, and had -never- taken a shower with anyone. He leaned his head forward to allow 17 to wash his back. It was... strange, to have someone else in the small space with him, water pouring over both of them. Though, that wasn't to say it was bad as it was rather pleasant. It was just different. He sighed as 17's circular scrubbing traveled the length of his entire body. He allowed the water to spray over him from above, washing away the suds that were just applied. And then there was the sound of the rag being dropped and a bottle being opened.

17 smirked to himself as he poured the shampoo into his open palm. He remembered very clearly what Yamcha had said earlier. He put the bottle back down and easily snagged the lavender tail that was curled low before him.

Trunks gasped in shock as he felt 17 grab his tail and rake it against the grain, nails sliding through fur and over skin. From the tip all the way up. He placed his hands flat against the wall to keep balance. It was a good thing he did that, as 17 quickly discovered that spot that Yamcha and Vegeta had already found. The demi-saiyajin's sharp cry filled the shower room as his knees buckled and he fell against the wall.

"Trunks?" 17 whispered, pressing up against the younger male. His hand stilled where it was touching, knowing that this was the spot that Yamcha had mentioned. But could it have had a negative effect on his lovely one?

"17…" Trunks rasped, his fingers curling into talons. "Please."

"Please?" 17 inquired, wondering what his lover was asking.

"More," Trunks growled. "More, more, more, more."

"Oh." The android smiled as he dipped his head forward, easily ignoring the spray of water as it cascaded down. He nuzzled Trunks' neck, massaging that small area of skin. He smiled as Trunks yelped in pleasure, instinctively moving his hips. "More of this?"

"Gods, yes," Trunks breathed.

Using his still lathered hand, 17 reached around and began to run his hand over Trunks' sex, surprised by how quickly the younger man became hard. The android was rewarded with a soul felt moan of pleasure from his organic lover.

"17...?" Trunks groaned, loathe to do more than accept this... yet wanting more at the same time. He leaned his head back, opening his mouth to drink in some of the water that showered down. He found his head was leaning back onto 17's shoulder, so he turned his head slightly, begging, "Please, want you. Now. Inside me? Please."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, gods, yes. Please!" Trunks cried, knowing that that was all he wanted. That was all he needed.

17 grinned as he released his lover's sex, grabbing a bottle from among its brethren. He had to release his hold on Trunks' tail as well, much to the demi-saiyajin's disappointment. The contents of the bottle slid out easily, and were pressed between two eager hands. He prepared the younger male quickly, knowing that Trunks didn't want any more foreplay. Then, he was moving forward, sliding into his lover's warm body.

Trunks leaned against the wall, feeling 17 inside him, wanting him. His tail was turned to the side, and managed to wrap around his lover's rear, cupping him closer. He felt fingers entwine with his, and arms crossing over his chest. And then they were moving, sliding against each other. Water pulsed down, unable to slip between their bodies for the most part. And over the sound of the water, there were small gasps of pleasure from Trunks and shuddering cries from 17. Trunks closed his eyes, savoring the feel, knowing that he was never more complete than he was when 17 was with him, moving together with him, inside of him. 17 clenched his teeth together, yet his vocalizations were still easily heard as he gave in to the blazing pleasure. He felt Trunks' orgasm just as his own washed over him. Water and soap and other liquids mingled together before disappearing down the drain even. For a moment, neither of them moved, savoring the afterglow.

Trunks was completely at 17's mercy, purring his pleasure as the android finished his task of washing his hair. All of his hair. Afterwards, they dried each other off, and they made sure not a single droplet of water was missed, as they cleaned each other again with hungry kisses. Laughing, 17 easily picked Trunks up and carried him to the bed, intent on finding -ALL- the hidden places on the demi-saiyajin.


	20. Entropy

_Disclaimer- Hello. I'm Deani, and with me, as always, is Summer. We're responsible for this massive attack on the senses known as 'Kingdom Come'. We are, however, -not- owners of DBZ and bear no legal rights to them. Blah, blah, blah. Anyway, I'm here to beg for at least one review for this chapter. Just one. Seriously. Even just one little fucking review. Even if it's just privately to me or Summer. That's all I ask. Just one. Please. Begging, here. It's not pretty._

_Warnings- Yaoi. Always, yaoi. Citrus, I'm sure, somewhere. Probably some other stuff. I have no idea, really. Whatever. It's cool._ **Kingdom Come**  
~ Chapter 20 Bulma felt an odd sense of déjà vu creep upon her as she gazed out over the gathered masses in the main hall. The central floor flowed with the carnal movements of court dancers, dressed in their more barbaric attire. There was the mass of aliens she had seen countless times before, though their multitude of faces always changed. Nothing ever really stayed the same. Except Zarbon's loyal presence at her back. She knew he would always be there for her. Across the room, it was easy to spot the two princes. Bulma's eyes never rested on any one person for too long, conscious of Lord Kakarrot's presence beside her, his careful interest in anyone that caught her eye for too long. Prince Gohan was again in the middle of a crowd, only this time he seemed a bit closer to the entrance, as if he had gotten stuck there. Sliding her eyes across the crowd, she found the two visiting humans as well as their guards. '_Well, it's nice to see someone can enjoy themselves at a party like this,_' she thought, watching Krillin and Yamcha smiling and laughing between themselves. 18, Bulma noticed seemed agitated, restless. The blonde android was clearly displeased with something; whether it was attending the party as a guard or something else, Bulma couldn't guess. The smallest of smiles graced the human female's features as her blue orbs landed on the short saiyajin next to Yamcha. He stood far closer to his charge than any guard really should, suspiciously watching every single being that moved past them, making sure they kept their distance from the scarred human. '_So possessive!_' Bulma thought, gleefully. Careful to keep her eyes moving, they swept across to the other side of the room and stopped on Prince Goten, standing alone, near the opposite wall. Not a single person penetrated the five-foot radius of space around him. A faint frown creased her brow, which did not go unnoticed by the emperor at her side. "Does something trouble you, my love?" Lord Kakarrot asked, his face full of concern. "Not greatly, milord," she answered, turning to gaze at him and smiling a false but believable smile. "Tell me," he prompted. Sighing ever so slightly, she gestured with a small nod towards the emperor's younger son. "It is Prince Goten. How he stands alone. How no one speaks to him. It saddens me." "Well, we can't have that," grunted the tall saiyajin. His dark eyes fixed on Goten, noting that the youth continued to glance over at the entrance to the main hall, almost as if he were waiting for something. Or someone. Suddenly, the dull roar of the room quieted sharply, triggering Lord Kakarrot to seek out the reason for the unexpected hush. Smirking, he found the cause. Demon Lord Piccolo and his current guard, 17, had arrived at the party. After a few moments of low murmurs, the din returned to its previous level of boisterousness while Piccolo and 17 made their way through the crowd. Lord Kakarrot followed the green male's line of sight, determining his final destination as being Prince Goten's location. Patting Bulma's hand reassuringly, he said, "Ahh, see now. Not to worry, darling. He'll have company soon enough." Bulma nodded, that same faux smile planted on her rosy lips. Watching the Demon Lord pushing through the crowd carefully, she couldn't help but notice another similar movement in the same direction, pursuing the tall man. Prince Gohan had brusquely broken away from his groupies, seemingly intent upon joining Piccolo. Feigning misdirection, Bulma stated, "You are correct, milord. His brother appears to be headed his way." "What's that?" Lord Kakarrot asked. Picking out the golden jacket of his elder son's formal uniform in the crowd, he saw that Gohan was indeed moving towards his brother. Or rather, Gohan was in hot pursuit of his prey, who happened to be joining Goten first. "Well, isn't this interesting." Smiling, the blue-haired woman acknowledged the saiyajin's words with a graceful nod of her head, still keeping her eyes on the two princes and the Demon Lord. They were perhaps the safest people in the room for her to watch for more than a few seconds, as Lord Kakarrot would see it as concern for his sons' welfare rather than misplaced interest. Fortunately, she was actually interested in the dynamics between the three males, 17 not really being included as he stood a couple of feet away between them and the rest of the room. It was strange to suddenly be rooting for one of the royals. At least, in Bulma's mind it was. Yet, she could not deny how pleased she was with the changes Goten had undergone. True, he had not gone so far as to act in a civil manner towards Trunks, but he -had- made subtle changes in decorum, such as acknowledging her presence civilly, whereas he'd completely ignored her before. And his smiles, though mostly reserved for and directed at the Demon Lord, lit up his face, showing his true age. And that was what it was really all about. That he was even capable of change. And love. To know that Goten possessed the ability to love someone wholly and purely was the true sign that he was better than his family. That alone would have been enough to change her mind about the youth, but to see that his love was clearly returned, in her eyes, that made all the difference. '_It's all about body language sometimes, isn't it?_' she thought to herself, noting how Piccolo's weight was shifted on one leg, causing him to lean towards Goten and away from Gohan. '_Gohan's trying to be charismatic, but Piccolo isn't particularly being charmed by his line of bullshit. Oh, and look at Goten! Clever, clever boy. Insinuating yourself ever-so-slightly between your brother and Piccolo. Yes. You know what's yours even if you cannot truly claim it publicly. Don't worry. Your Demon Lord knows he's spoken for._' Reaching to her left, Bulma picked up the glass of wine that Zarbon had placed beside her mere moments before. She nodded her head for the briefest moments, acknowledging his actions. Yet, she refrained from looking at him. Especially with Lord Kakarrot sitting right beside her. Zarbon's golden eyes easily caught the slight nod and smile as his Mistress pulled her glass up to sip from. Without seeming to, the blue-skinned male looked at the emperor. Lord Kakarrot was oblivious to his presence for the most part, which was a good thing. If he wanted to stay alive, he knew that he would have to stay invisible to the monarch. And to the rest of the world, for if Lord Kakarrot ever assumed of the true relationship between his precious jewel and her guard, if it were ever to be discovered, it would mean someone was going to die. Zarbon knew that that someone was going to be him. What the saddest part of it was, even if nothing ever happened between the two, Lord Kakarrot would still kill the blue-skinned guard, simply for thinking of such things. The green-haired guard shifted his gaze to something, someone, safer. Vegeta. The short saiyajin had his normal dress uniform on, and his tail wrapped securely around his waist. The human he was 'guarding' was dressed in his same black tux. But Vegeta was standing too close to the human to be doing his job properly. '_Too close. Too close,_' he chastised the small saiyajin in his head. _'You're standing too close. Even the princes know better than to stand within a foot of their conquest._' His golden eyes shifted over to the trio on the other side of the room. '_Prince Gohan, who has quite overtly staked his claim as pursuer of the Demon Lord, is at least two feet away, and even that is almost too close. Prince Goten, on the other hand can't even help that he stands a good six inches closer since Piccolo is leaning slightly toward him._' Flickering his eyes back to Vegeta, he continued to address him in his head. '_But -you- can't be more than eight inches away from the human. You must be dumber than I thought, Vegeta. If you're not careful someone will notice. -Other- than me._' A guard was supposed to blend, to go unnoticed. Vegeta was doing neither to the emerald-haired guard's dismay. Zarbon waited for Lord Kakarrot to notice, to say something, to outright kill the shorter saiyajin male as a lesson on proper behavior. So, when the emperor's voice called out softly to him, Zarbon was already prepared to go after Vegeta. Strangely enough, Lord Kakarrot did not order for Vegeta. Instead, the royal commanded the blue-skinned guard, "Zarbon, bring me Prince Gohan and Prince Goten. Tell them that their presence is required promptly and without exception." "Yes, sire," Zarbon said as he bowed. He moved down to the tiled floor gracefully, slipping forward towards the two princes. Upon arrival, he noticed that Prince Gohan looked a bit flushed and agitated where as Prince Goten looked somewhat amused. Demon Lord Piccolo seemed... tall. He had never appreciated how tall the warrior was until that moment. Inwardly shaking off the feeling of disquiet, Zarbon bowed and said, "Pardon me, sirs. But Lord Kakarrot is demanding his sons' presences on the stage, promptly and with no exceptions." "What could he possibly want now?" Prince Gohan growled softly, his tail lashing through the air as he pushed past Zarbon. He was annoyed at the verbal sparring that he and Piccolo had been engaged in. Not because it wasn't fun, but because he had the distinct impression that the green man had been stringing him along, being coolly detached but interested enough to keep Gohan attempting to gain more interest from him. And now that the elder prince had finally thought he was beginning to get somewhere... "This better be important." "Father," Prince Gohan said, so softly that only those closest to the stage could hear. "Heh. I'm glad you two could be here for this," the muscular ruler said. "It's fitting that you two are here with me when I make my announcement." "Father?" Prince Goten asked. "Heh. You'll see," Lord Kakarrot hinted, grinning like a child. He jumped to his feet, his smile causing many to take a wary step back. The move did not go unnoticed by the monarch, and it only caused him to grin even more. Making sure that his voice carried to the very back of the room if not further, Lord Kakarrot began his speech. "No doubt," he began a little too loudly for the quiet of the room. "Ahem. No doubt you are all wondering why you've been gathered here this evening. Well, let us not hold you in suspense any longer. Surely, you are all aware that in the past two months alone, the empire has added over one hundred planets to our holdings." The crowd roared its approval, much to Lord Kakarrot's pleasure. "Thanks in no small part to the heir to the throne, Prince Gohan!" Again, the cheers rose to a nearly deafening level. Goten stood a little apart from his 'family', feeling completely unassociated with them as usual. Keeping his face stoic, he merely stood at attention, listening to his father go on. "And if that news were not excellent enough," the emperor continued, "I have an announcement to make. You have probably heard, in one way or another, of the untimely... passing of the former Lady of the empire. However, her shoes will soon be filled." Lord Kakarrot offered his hand out to Mistress Bulma, allowing her to take it and stand beside him before the masses. "On the first day of this new year, I will wed Mistress Bulma. All hail the new Lady of the Empire!" Loud applause from the crowd rocked the main hall, even though several people went unnoticed as they did nothing more than gape in confusion. Prince Gohan bent slightly towards his younger brother, speaking out of the side of his mouth. "What the -hell- is going on here? Did you know anything about this?" "Not a clue," Goten shrugged, just as taken aback as his elder sibling. Their soft clapping was more out of respect to their father rather than actual approval of the idea. Goten couldn't care less who his father married, as it was a well-known fact that he had loved the blue-haired human for... a very long time. It was just as well that she was given a formal title of Empress. Gohan, on the other hand, was inwardly sick. First, his father was marrying a whore, a HUMAN whore. Second, he had slept with her. His soon-to-be stepmother. Which was just -revolting-. Despite her human and whore background, that technically made her 'family', and having sex with a family member was beneath even Gohan. You were loyal to family; you didn't fuck them. Zarbon hung in the shadows behind the couple, lost as part of the scenery. It was fortunate, seeing as how his mouth was slightly open in utter shock, and his eyes were wide. Lord Kakarrot was going to marry Mistress Bulma. She was going to be Empress. Lord Kakarrot was going to be with her... every night... touching her... holding her... It was almost too much for the blue-skinned warrior to take. Somehow, he managed to keep his composure. He would make it through the night. Tomorrow, well, that would be a concern later. He'd cross that bridge when he came to it. '_Well... shit,_' Krillin thought to himself with some surprise. Nudging 18 slightly with his elbow, he asked, "Is this, um... a surprise?" "That's putting it mildly," stated the blonde android. "I don't think even Mistress Bulma knew. Look at that plasticine smile. Fraud." "Huh," the short human shrugged. From his vantage point, he could gauge a lot of responses without being seen by anyone important, not that he'd allow himself to be dumb enough to get caught anyway. The cheers were loud and wild, but hollow. '_These bastards don't mean a single syllable,_' snorted Krillin. '_What a bunch of fakers. And geez. They're no better on stage. Bulma does look a little forced herself. Zarbon... Man, did he swallow a goldfish or something? I hope he doesn't hurl up there. Gohan... ooh, he's not a happy camper._' Finally able to get a look at Prince Goten, Krillin didn't even try to hold back his chuckle. '_That little prick couldn't care less. Look at him. Bored out of his skull. Hee. And poor Lord Crapalot. I almost feel sorry for the son of a bitch. He's the only one up there who actually gives a damn._' The crowd returned to its previous bustling once Lord Kakarrot had allowed them to enjoy the party. In the back of the bald human's mind, he could feel that Yamcha and Vegeta were moving away, and when he turned to look, he only caught a glimpse of Vegeta's hair quickly escaping through the entrance to the main hall. '_Huh. Wonder when I can break out of this joint. Nnnh. Probably have to have 18 tag along. Man, she sucks._' Prince Goten's attention fixed solely on his father, stepping past his brother up to the taller saiyajin. "Father," he began, "before I congratulate you on... this, I must ask something. Surely you're not expecting... me... to arrange the ceremony and whatnot?" Laughing heartily, Lord Kakarrot slapped his younger son hard on the back, both in jest and in reprimand. "No, of course not. Can't have you messing with things about which you'll never know anything, can I? No, no. I will handle this myself... with my betrothed's assistance," he answered, turning a bit to smile at Bulma. "Rest assured, you will have nothing to do with this joyous occasion other than attending it." "Well, then. Congratulations on your engagement, milord. May I be excused now?" "Yes, of course." The emperor smirked as he watched Goten nearly leap from the platform back into the crowd, which parted far more than it needed to allow the demi-saiyajin through. Once he saw that Gohan was about to follow suit, his hand clamped down heavily on his elder son's shoulder. "Not so fast, Gohan. There's someone I'd like you to meet." Prince Goten looked over his shoulder as he neared Piccolo, noticing that his father was pulling Gohan towards a small group of very lovely females, or at least what he guessed would be considered lovely, since he had never thought anyone to be attractive until he'd met the Demon Lord. '_It seems Father thinks that it's not only -his- time to settle down. Ugh. That could be -me- up there. Thank the gods for that bet..._' With a smirk, he turned his attention back to his final destination: Piccolo. "I think it would be best if we... cut out early. Like... -now-. Father has Gohan distracted, and it will only be a short matter of time before they lose interest in their current party game." Piccolo looked towards where the emperor and eldest prince were, and noticed Gohan's growing frown of vexation as each individual lady was introduced to him, bowed, and then retreated to allow the next one to repeat the process. With a nod of agreement, he and Goten slipped out via a balcony window. He watched as 17 merely shook his head and left through the front door, not bothering to hide his tracks or to be secretive. He had the benefit of being able to say that Prince Goten dismissed him, after all. Piccolo turned to his younger companion and asked softly, "So, tell me. How do you feel about your father's engagement?" The young demi-saiyajin shrugged. "Eh. Doesn't really matter to me. Mistress Bulma has essentially been 'acting' as Lady for years. This is merely making it official. Regardless, as it has no bearing or effect on any area of my life, I'm just... indifferent about it, I suppose." Glancing over his shoulder back through the window, Goten saw a very angry Gohan pull their father over to the side of the stage away from the trove of women. "We'd better go now. I think Gohan's about to lay into our father." "Have you gone totally out of your mind?" Gohan hissed at his father, keeping his voice low enough so that no one else could hear them. He had his tail curled behind him, but his back was to a wall. He was leaning so that no one other than his father could see his face, but that also obscured his view of everyone at the party. Especially the pretty flock of mindless pigeons in which his father wanted him to be interested. "I don't want any of these... these... What are they? Princesses? Whatever. I don't want them. Maybe someday when I'm really hard up, I'll pick a mate, but right now, no, thanks." "Don't you dare speak in that tone of voice to me, boy," Lord Kakarrot seethed, painfully gripping his son's chin in one hand and pulling the boy to him. They were mere inches apart, yet at the same time there were miles between them. The long ebony spikes of Kakarrot's hair shuddered slightly with his anger, but that was all the visible confirmation that showed. "You -will- choose a mate and -soon-. Make no mistake." "Not right now, I'm not." Straightening up his golden jacket and running a hand through his spiky hair, Gohan lifted his nose haughtily into the air. "Now, if you don't mind -- well, actually, I don't care if you mind or not -- I have a Demon Lord to get back to." The emperor quickly scanned the crowd for the tall, green male's head, which he'd seen numerous times that evening, then smirked. If his son was going to annoy him, then it was only fitting that he return the unwanted sentiment. "Really. Seems the Demon Lord has gone missing from the party." "What?!" Gohan asked in disbelief. Still looking over the crowd, Lord Kakarrot added, "And Goten's disappeared too. Eh, just as well. He never has been sociable. No one likes him anyway." "Dammit! Now, look what you've done!" Gohan fumed at his father, then stormed off into the crowd in search of his absent conquest. He knew that Goten never stayed at any of the parties past the climax, the great speech or whatnot. Goten was more for his dark, dreary, relatively quiet torture chambers where there were very, very, very few people and no one he had to charm. Charming was so not his brother's style, after all. That was more of his gift, or so he thought. The elder prince swore inwardly as he stalked through the crowd, his eyes sweeping for the indigo and black of Piccolo's garments topped by his bald green head. '_Where the hell did he run off to? Fuck... I can't believe father kept me up there for so long! And I was finally getting somewhere with Piccolo! Argh. This is ridiculous. Could he have gone to his room already? That would be just my luck too. Maybe I should go up there... No. No, no, no. I'm not throwing myself at him like that. Not him. There's always tomorrow. Tomorrow...'_ *** The room was small, though the surrounding mirrors gave the illusion of a much larger area. Light spilled out from the corners, where one panel of glass met another. There was security in the fact that no one would disturb the two warriors therein, as the prince had the ride secure with his own personal pass codes. Not even his own father could crack open the doors... unless he ascended, and it was highly improbable for -that- to occur over a simple elevator. The code was given right after the doors closed, and just before he reached for his taller lover. Piccolo easily wrapped his arms around Goten's smaller form, pressing the prince close. He buried his nose into the raven spikes of the younger male's hair, inhaling deeply. The charade of being nothing more than friends was wearing on both of them. The need to touch the prince had almost been too much for the stoic fighter, but somehow he had curbed it. As the elevator lifted them upwards to their level, Piccolo's deep voice pierced the silence of the room with gentle ease, "You looked nice tonight." "Mmm. Thank you. Just the dress uniform for my position. You've seen it before." A brown-furred tail unwrapped from its usual location to wrap around Piccolo's upper leg. Goten buried his head in the strong chest pressed against him. He sighed softly, wishing... so many things. Like the ability to figure out what he had done to deserve to find the Demon Lord, who was so beautiful and yet seemed to find him attractive as well. "Gohan looked nice this evening, don't you think?" "He looked decent, which is more than what's normal for him," Piccolo responded, slowly beginning to rub his hand up and down Goten's back. "But then he opened his mouth and ruined it all, not that there was much there to begin with. Certainly nothing to compare with you." By then, the lift was slowing to a stop. It was time to move apart, just in case someone was there to see them, even though -nobody- had any real right to be up there aside from the level's two residents and they royal family. With eyes full of regret, they did as decorum demanded. They left the lift together, moving down the hall until they had to go their separate ways to go to their separate rooms. They knew that it wouldn't be for long, though. Only so long as it would take them to prepare for the rest of the night. For Goten, he calmly stepped into his room, allowing the door to hush closed behind his curled tail. But as soon as he was alone, with the knowledge that no one was watching him, he flew into action, stripping down so fast he almost ripped his clothes, which was something he hadn't done since he was a teenager. As soon as he was in his pajamas, which consisted of a shirt and pair of loose fitting black pants, he stepped up to the door. Inhaling a soothing breath, he calmly stepped out of his room, and began to walk calmly down the hall towards Piccolo's room. As an afterthought, he looked over his shoulder and gave a soft command, locking his bedroom door tightly, so that no one other than a god -- or himself -- could open it. The door to Demon Lord Piccolo's room slid expectantly open for the prince, as he knew it would. He slipped inside quietly, spotting Piccolo with hungry eyes. Moving soundlessly over the carpet, the prince made his way to where the green man had stood up for him. Together, they sat down on the floor in front of the fireplace, Goten curled up against Piccolo's side, and unwilling to move more than his tail to drape across both of their legs. Piccolo wrapped one arm around the prince's shoulders, bringing the younger male closer. Goten managed to get both of Piccolo's arms around him, green hands resting on pale skin. They were both staring into the fire, watching as the wood burned liquidly in front of them. It was Goten who broke the silence by whispering, "I love you. I just want you to know that." "I know," Piccolo said, kissing the top of the demi-saiyajin's head. "And I love you. More than I ever thought I could love anyone." Goten nodded his head silently, and then slipped down to rest his head on Piccolo's thigh. He sighed as he felt Piccolo's hand running through his hair and over his skin to his shoulders. For him, this was one of the best parts of being with Piccolo. Not the sex, but the simple touching. He had never really thought that touching was all that great... but Piccolo somehow managed to make it better than it had any right to be. It could be as intoxicating as a drug, or as comforting as certain foods. Dark eyes closed as he savored Piccolo's caress. "Tell me about your world, Piccolo. Is it much like this one?" "Yes and no," he answered slowly, carefully. "It's much more beautiful, peaceful. There is no empire, no -one- ruler, though there are many small governments. From time to time, there will be visitors from other planets who try to stake a claim on Earth, but we always defeat them." "Who are 'we'?" Goten inquired, eyes still shut. "You and your two humans?" "There are more of us," Piccolo said, smiling a bit at thinking of himself included with the rest of the group. Fighters he had fought against in his life, and fought beside. Some were human. Some weren't. And some, no one knew -what- they were. "Faces you'd likely recognize if ever you saw them." Goten's eyes opened then, gazing up into Piccolo's face. "The people here are the same there?" "Not exactly. Some of them are the same," Piccolo tried to explain. His eyes gave away some of his troubled thoughts, showing his concern in a way that only someone extremely intimate might recognize. "My father?" "He's gone now," Piccolo replied softly, a tinge of emotion in his voice. One couldn't help but admire some of the man's determination. He chose his words carefully, uncertain of what he could say and what he -should- say. "But he was a good man. A loving father. The strongest warrior of all of us, except perhaps Gohan." "Gohan... What is he like?" "Very kind. Very smart. Very strong." Piccolo remembered, a sad smile stealing some of the light from his face. "He was my student. But that was a long time ago. When he was a mere boy." "Student?" Goten asked, his brow creasing with confusion. "But... You can't be more than a couple of years older than him." "Four years, actually. Not that anyone ever realized that except him." Goten nodded his head, accepting this. Some people were never question for their natural abilities. After a moment, though, the prince had to ask, "And is there... Am I there?" "There's a very silly boy with your name and the same family members, who... might look like you at first glance," stated the larger male. "But he's not you. He's altogether different. There could never be another -you-." "Is he... better-looking than me?" queried the youth, his lack of self-esteem making its appearance in the conversation. Piccolo nearly laughed at that. His realm's Goten being attractive?! That was just too funny. "Not in the slightest." "Hmm." Goten lightly stroked Piccolo's forearm across his chest. "Who else is there? 17? Vegeta?" "They're both there, though very different. Trunks, Mistress Bulma, 18. Your mother also. They're all there. But... different. No one is the same here as they are in my world. Except for Krillin, Yamcha, and myself. But we're from there. So..." "I see." Goten replied. He snuggled back down against Piccolo's lap and closed his eyes. He sighed as Piccolo continued to pet him. Feeling the early stages of sleep tugging at his consciousness, Goten stifled a yawn. He had been up far too long, yet he felt it wasn't nearly long enough. "I'm... sleepy." "So sleep, then." "Nnnh. But I want you to make love to me. I love when we do that," the demi-saiyajin remarked in his sleep-filled voice. For the moment, though, he continued to relax, enjoying the feel of Piccolo's green skin sliding against his pale, imagining what it would look like. Remembering what the contrast looked like from previous experiences. "We have all night, Goten," murmured Piccolo, bending to kiss the younger man on the forehead. "I'll wake you later." "You'd better," the prince replied. Soon, there was only Piccolo's smell, his warmth, and his presence. And it was all Goten really needed. The fire burned nearby, spreading its warmth out to the two. The sounds of its idle popping and crackling dimmed as Goten fell asleep. *** The air in the room was cooled from the open window, the filmy curtains blowing and waving with the inrush of wind. Even with the chilled temperature of the outside environment, the two lovers were covered in sweat. Fur bristled before resettling. Soft gasps and inarticulate words were muffled against flesh. Hips moved in a rapid rhythm. Muscles strained. Vegeta was braced up in an almost push-up position, his arms on either side of Yamcha's ribs. He grimaced in slight pain as Yamcha's fingers dug into the skin of his back, scratching him deep enough to draw blood. The pain was insignificant, though, compared to the way his lover was moving against him, under him, around him. And the things he was whispering! Vegeta threw his head back, restraining a howl as his climax claimed what little sanity he had left. Weakly, he pulled out and away from the scarred human, only to collapse face first into the pillow beside him. Yamcha smiled dazedly, turning over to his side. Sometimes, he just couldn't believe that this was real. He reached out a hand to continue to touch his lover, resting it on the royal saiyajin's back, only to have the shorter male wince in obvious pain. "Vegeta...?" "If you aren't more careful, you're going to remove all the skin off my back," Vegeta said even as he continued to regain his breathing. Somehow, it seemed that they recovered faster and faster, as if they were growing immune to the physical exertion, though not from the naked animalistic lust that they shared. Nor were they immune to the emotions behind their actions. Yamcha almost laughed at that thought, the bubbly sound dying in his throat as he licked his lips languidly. Gazing over at Vegeta under heavy eyelids, he drawled, "Well, it's just my way of leaving a lover's mark. Sorta like a hickey." "Yeah? Well, what if I just decide to leave a mark on you? Hmmm?" Vegeta rasped in mock anger, leaning up and snapping his teeth just over Yamcha's scarred skin, careful not to actually bite the human. "Heh. Good luck finding some place that doesn't already have some kind of scar on it," Yamcha sighed, a minute, lazy smile gracing his face. Closing his eyes completely, he extended his arms over his head in a near feline-like stretch. "At least with you, there's a lot of canvas for me to use." "Is that a challenge? I could add my own mark. Find a very... special spot on your body for it," Vegeta teased, running a finger over the scarred male's sweat-slicked skin. "Hmmm... true," Yamcha blushed. "But if ya did that, then I wouldn't be able to show it off." Vegeta's smile dimmed as he leaned back. He was struck speechless for only the briefest moment before blurting out, "You're serious?" "Aren't you?" Yamcha asked, pointedly catching Vegeta's eyes with his own. "Because, ya know, I'd let you scar me if you wanted to. I'd just want to be able to show it off. That's what having lover's mark is about, ya know. Bragging rights. I'll get to brag that I got you." Vegeta was stunned silent, his mouth hanging open slightly. He blinked a few times, trying to gather his thought processes. "You'd let me? Are you sure about this? I mean... If I brand you, it's not temporary." "Heh. Neither is this," Yamcha replied as he moved up to plant a firm, undeniable kiss on Vegeta's still parted mouth. Two pair of dark eyes closed as the heat built up in the small exchange, and even though Yamcha was the instigator, it was Vegeta who was the dominator. Their breathing quickly returned to its earlier irregular flow as they sampled each other's taste, sipping fire that spread throughout their entire bodies. Breaking the kiss, Yamcha leaned back on the bed, lying on his back this time. "Yeah, I want you to brand me. Mark me. Let me have a lover's mark to show off to the rest of the world." Vegeta parted his eyes and looked down at lovely, loving man below him. Yamcha was stronger than him. Faster than him. Better than him. And yet, he was willing to be scarred by him? Grinning, Vegeta looked over his shoulder at the rest of the room. He found what he was looking for easily enough. A small pen. Grabbing it lightly, he returned to the bed quickly. "This is from some of the older traditions of my people, something Kakarrot and his brood don't even know about." "What are you going to do?" Yamcha asked. "Turn over, so I can do this on your back," Vegeta commanded, though it was more of a request. He grinned as Yamcha automatically obeyed. "I'm going to engrave the royal symbol of my house, the Vegeta-sei Crest, on your back. It'll be easily hidden by a shirt, but if you went without the shirt, then everyone would see this. It used to be that this symbol was done on whoever belonged to my family's house, even servants. All the warriors would have it branded on their chest, above their hearts. Servants had it on their hands." "Oh. Okay. I guess you're going to outline it first, huh?" Yamcha asked. "Yes. I don't want to mess it up," Vegeta said as he began to lightly sketch what he remembered as his symbol. "So... I get why servants had them on their hands; that makes sense in a... rudimentary sort of way. But what's the deal with warriors having it branded on their chests?" Yamcha queried. "Well, it was said that that was the only way the enemy would see the symbol. Warriors would never turn their backs on opposition, and the others wouldn't stand up to them," Vegeta remarked absently. "Um... so, why aren't you branding me as a warrior?" Yamcha inquired, serious and a bit hurt. "Because. I'd rather have you as my lover than as my soldier. Lovers were branded on their backs, which -- with the proper attire -- could be highly visible," Vegeta grinned, both at the comment and at his finished sketch. He was aware that Yamcha was blushing, which was rather funny to him. After all this time together, it was strange that a simple statement of fact could cause such a reaction. He shook his head as he dashed to the bathroom, intent on finding a specific kind of gel, one used to decrease pain but lead to scarring. Why it was invented, Vegeta had no real clue, but it was suspected that it was a cruel way of reminding warriors of previous defeats. All he really knew was that it took away pain and left a physical reminder of injury. He rummaged around in the cabinets, making far too much noise for his tastes, but he didn't stop until he found what he was looking for. When he pulled his hands back, he noticed that his hands were shaking. Badly. With a muttered curse, he put the tube of gel on the side of the sink and rested his hands along its edge. He looked up, into the mirror, and tried to regain his breathing. "Vegeta?" Yamcha called out, wondering what the prince was doing. "Just a moment," Vegeta returned. He took a few deep, calming breaths, trying to gain some kind of control over himself. When he was confident enough that he thought he'd be able to perform his task, he grabbed the tube and returned to the bed. Sitting lightly beside his human lover, he began to trace the outline already present on Yamcha's back. "You know, I can't help but wonder... how will I know when people are calling my name and when they are calling the other Vegeta's?" "Hmmm... Well, I don't think anyone's going to be doing all that much calling for Vegeta. But, if it makes you feel any better, babes... you'll know by the tone. If they're talking to him, they're probably screaming his name in vexation. You, they'll just address calmly," Yamcha said, frowning. The gel was -cold-! "Still. Perhaps... Perhaps I should change my name slightly. I wouldn't want to offend the other Vegeta too much if, as you say, he is more powerful than Demon Lord Piccolo," Vegeta stated as he re-applied more gel. His tail was curled up behind him, as it usually was when they were alone. "Perhaps just... Geta." "Geta, huh?" Yamcha grinned, though he knew his lover couldn't see it. "All right. I'll remember." "You'd better." The short saiyajin grinned, capping the tube. He tossed it to the ground carelessly, looking only at what he was about to do. Taking another calming, steadying breath, he whispered. "You'd better remember my name. You'll be screaming it soon enough." Yamcha chuckled at that. But he didn't move as he felt something almost uncomfortably hot press against his back. As he underwent the procedure, his damp skin broke out in cold sweats. He bit his lip against the dull throbbing pain; his skin was amazingly numb, yet the tissues under it weren't. Trying greatly not to squirm under the acute sensation, he allowed himself to be calmed by the soft crooning coming from his lover. Concentrating on only Vegeta's voice, Yamcha began to sing with him. The action of singing that particular song was so much a part of their private time together that it was almost second nature to Vegeta by then. So, it was quite easy for him to concentrate primarily on the branding procedure rather than the words he was saying. Still, he managed not to slip up in either task, something he took some pride in. Yet, as he removed his chi-lightened fingers from Yamcha's back, Vegeta found his words faltering. He was left staring at the fresh scar, unable to say anything, allowing only Yamcha to finish singing. "Geta?" Yamcha asked, looking over his shoulder at the other male. What he saw caused the human to fall silent. There was the look of utmost wonder on Vegeta's face, transforming him from the man he had come to know into someone at least twenty years younger. There was a look of such pride, such accomplishment and... nobility there that for a moment Yamcha had the strangest sense of déjà vu. Vegeta stared down at the work of art before him. He had always thought that marking another in this manner was a bit... barbaric in the grand scheme of things, and that was why it went out of fashion with his people. Yet, staring down at his family emblem blazing angry red from Yamcha's back, there was no emotion other than... joy. He had never thought... Well, it didn't matter. None of it did. "As of now, you belong to me." Yamcha grinned. "I belonged to you a while back." Vegeta almost couldn't breathe, his throat hurt so badly. He reached his hand forward, yet refrained from actually touching the new scar. He stared at it reverently for a few more moments before raising his eyes to meet Yamcha's gaze. "We shouldn't do anything else tonight. Allow you time to heal. Back muscles are always the worst when it comes to pain. They're responsible for so many movements that it would cause you too much discomfort." Yamcha narrowed his eyes at that. "All right, so... I just really want to hold you the rest of the night to make damn sure that I didn't do anything stupid, like fuck it up," Vegeta grinned. "BUT. In the morning, when I'm sure all the physical repercussions are evident, we'll decide what to do." Yamcha couldn't stop from the bubbling laughter that spilt forth. Shaking his head, they climbed into a resting position that allowed Vegeta to be on his back with Yamcha resting on top of him, his back exposed to the cool night air. "So, if everything is good in the morning, what are our plans? I mean, after the bombshell at the party tonight, I think things are going to be a bit... crazy around here." "Hmm... yes. They will be. Which is all the better for people who can use this as a diversion for other things," Vegeta said softly, thinking aloud. "Like us," Yamcha agreed. "Like us," the saiyajin echoed. Then he smiled. "Of course, after such a party as this was, it would not be uncommon for people and warriors, such as yourself, to remain inside their rooms tomorrow, enjoying all the pleasant aftershocks of a night full of merriment and drinking." "You mean hangovers." "And of course, as I am your bodyguard, I'd have to stay here and guard your body," Vegeta replied lecherously. "I would, of course, start the day by making sure that it was in proper working order and everything was accounted for." "You'd be thorough, wouldn't you?" the scarred male played along, giving the collarbone beneath his mouth a light lick. "Cover every... square... inch?" "I would not be fulfilling my... position," Vegeta murmured, allowing his tail to dip between Yamcha's legs teasingly, "if I didn't complete an extensive and... deep inspection." "Mmm," Yamcha whispered, already becoming slightly aroused. It wasn't fair that Vegeta had a tail, it really wasn't. Especially since it seemed that tail was very good at... things. But then, two could play at this game. With a free hand, he skimmed his way down Vegeta's side and then back up before dipping down again and cupping the saiyajin who was just as aroused as he was if not more so. "And you assure me it would be deep?" "Without question." "Just so long as you have the proper tools for the job," Yamcha intoned, beginning to stroke his lover, causing them both to become even more aroused. Vegeta grabbed his arm though, forcing Yamcha to stop, though it was more of a request than actual demand as Yamcha -could- have continued. "I assure you that I have the best tools for this job, and I am highly skilled," Vegeta remarked, his face flushed and eyes slightly glazed. He had stopped, but it was more because he wanted Yamcha to be pleasured rather than himself. He pulled up Yamcha's hand, the one that had been stroking him, and he kissed the palm of its hand. "Oh, I have full confidence in your skills." Yamcha answered. "I believe you'll be pleased with my performance," Vegeta smirked, allowing his tail's tip to race along the underside of Yamcha's shaft, flirtatiously, causing him to shudder delightfully in his arms. "Are you sure I can't have a little... teaser? For tomorrow's performance," Yamcha asked, spreading his legs slightly so that he was straddling his lover, allowing that tail, or any other part of Vegeta's anatomy, even greater access to whatever it wished. "Anticipation is half the fun. You'll just have to wait," Vegeta replied mercilessly. He kept his tail where it was, as it also pinned Yamcha to him, and the way they were positioned would keep the scarred warrior from moving too much. It would allow his body time to heal. "Tease," Yamcha pouted. Sighing, he turned his head to the side, listening to Vegeta's strong heartbeat under his ear. It was going to be a long night. And hard. Just like him. The morning wasn't going to come soon enough, and neither was he.   



	21. Restless

_Disclaimer- I, Summer Starr, and my co-authoress, Deani, own nothing of DragonBall Z and all its affiliated stuff. C'mon, really. If we did, do you really think a fic of this magnitude would be merely FANfiction? I think not._

_Warnings- Fluff, Angst, AU, Yaoi, Het, Odd couples, and other fun stuff. And as always, praise will be welcomed and saved to savor for later, while flames will be donated to starving pyromaniacs._ **Kingdom Come**  
~ Chapter 21 She stood in her personal room aboard her father's ship, looking out over the ship bay. Having just watched Lord Kakarrot's ship depart, she knew it would only be a few more minutes before her father joined her and they could leave. She couldn't wait to get away from the Imperial home base. A month in the company of the Trans-galactic Empire's ruling family was far too long. Fidgeting like an electrocuted rodent, she nearly jumped out of her skin when her personal attendant suddenly entered the room. "You stupid cow!" she shrieked. "Always signal! Always signal! Is my father here yet? Can we leave?" "No, milady," answered the other woman softly. "Oh, my. Why isn't he here? Why isn't he here yet? I can't stand this place another second. I can't!" The severely distressed young lady abruptly burst into tears, her wails causing her attendant to grit her teeth as she went to comfort her ward. But her thoughtfulness was completely disregarded as the youth shoved her away. "I don't need the pity of a servant." "Milady," calmly stated the attendant, "my one purpose in this life is to care for you and see to your needs. Won't you tell me what's wrong? Please?" "This place, these people," she hissed, eyes wild. "Have you seen them? Seen the way they are, what they do?" "No, milady," the other woman replied, shaking her head. "I'm afraid it quite escaped my notice." "Of course a simpleton like you wouldn't see it. But you do recall the royal family, do you not? Or are you even too stupid to remember them?" "Yes, of course, I remember the royal family members." The young woman began pacing rapidly back and forth across the floor, wringing her hands so tightly that her knuckles were white. "Thank heavens the emperor has already gone. The worst of his kind, he is. Such a vile, obtuse man. Did you see how he handled his own soon-to-be bride? Like she was a mere piece of meat! Such a lady should not be handled like that. I spoke with her, of course. Nothing but the utmost in elegance and class. I cannot understand how she bears being with such a barbarian. Oh, and he -is- a barbarian. The way he paraded me and the other princesses in front of that wretched creature he calls his eldest son. The way he leered at us. You know, I heard he bedded some of those other girls. Mind you, I was not there, but I heard that. What kind of man does something so horrible? Perhaps he even threatened them. I just -know- that he'd kill a person just as soon as look at them. Terrible man!" "Perhaps when someone is as powerful and handsome as Lord Kakarrot..." The seated attendant trailed off the moment she saw her mistress's eyes blaze in incredulity. "Handsome? -Handsome-?! How could you call that brute handsome?" wailed the princess. "Well, you're not very intelligent, and surely I cannot truly fault you for that. Even -I- thought the emperor and his sons handsome upon first glance, and -I'm- a brilliant woman. Yes, yes, I forgive you. But still. Just one -tiny- moment with them is all it took for me to realize what disgusting creatures they are. Yet, I've had an entire -month- to observe their contemptible tendencies! Oh, the horror!" "Milady, you'll do yourself harm if you do not calm down. You must -relax-," the other woman pointed out. Moving across the room, she pulled her charge to a seat, fanning her with a handkerchief. "Do not fret. Your father will be here soon." "Oh, it can't be soon enough! If only he hadn't had to stay here to take care of business with the emperor." The princess's eyes glazed lightly, and she bent close to her attendant, her voice having lowered to a soft whisper. "I saw things here. Too much. They're all quite mad, I tell you." "How so, milady?" asked the attendant just as quietly. "There was Prince Gohan, you know," she began in the same hushed voice. "He was quite bored looking at all of us. He didn't care about seeing us, which I thought was odd since several of the princesses were even more beautiful than I am... and don't you dare tell another soul I said that. And I wondered why he was so rude and awful because he's certainly not -that- good-looking. But since we stayed so long, I heard all the talk of the court, rumors, gossip. And, of course, I witnessed a great deal of what I think could be classified as scandalous." The other woman frowned a bit, leaning in. "Scandalous, milady? I don't believe I understand." "It was rumored that Prince Gohan sleeps with both males and females, which I'm sure you've heard." "Yes, of course." "It's true! Or at least that he sleeps with males is true. Now, I did not -personally- see any such horrid acts, but I did see him chasing around a gentleman," confided the princess. "A gentleman? Which one?" the other woman prompted. "Do you remember the tall, green fellow? He was at the party. Oh! And he wears a funny hat and a cape regularly. You've seen him?" "Ah, yes. The... Demon Lord," asserted the attendant. "Right, yes. Him," the princess nodded. "According to the gossip and rumors I've heard, Prince Gohan is -madly- in love with the Demon Lord and has been pursuing him these past several months while he's been a guest here. It is even rumored that the prince threw his fight in the tournament in order to win the other man's favor! Because, of course, no one could defeat a super saiyajin, you know." "Yes, yes. Go on," pressed the other woman eagerly. "What else was said?" "Well, apparently, the prince threw the match in order to prove his devotion to the Demon Lord, but he won't give in to the prince! There are many rumors about why he won't." "Did you hear them?" "Of course! Eavesdropping -is- one of my specialties, you know." The princess smoothed out a wrinkle in her dress and smiled as she continued quietly, eager to share the gossip. "Some say he is not interested in other males. Some say he is not sexual in any way. After all, the Demon Lord does keep company with Prince Goten." "The Dark Prince? You've seen him?" the attendant inquired. "Have you learned anything about him?" "Cold, silent... I will not perjure myself and say he does not frighten me like he frightens the rest of the galaxy. He terrifies me. His eyes..." Her eyes were wide and paranoid while she spoke. "When that one walks by, he never looks -at- you; he looks -through- you, like you're not even there. Speaks to no one, and no one speaks to him either." "But you just said, milady, that the Demon Lord keeps company with him," corrected the other woman. "Yes, I know. I almost feel sorry for the Demon Lord. First, look at him. Tall and green as a tree. I daresay he looks as frightening as Prince Goten -is-. Second, he spends most of his time keeping Prince Gohan at arm's length and further. And then there's his business with Prince Goten." "Have you seen them together? The Dark Prince and the Demon Lord?" the attendant questioned. "Are they in cahoots?" "No, no," the princess shook her head. "I've heard rumors why they are friends. Just gossip. I imagine none of them have seen what I've seen." "What have you seen? I must know at once," implored the woman. "Well, you've heard, of course, about how Prince Goten is never to marry nor produce any heirs, yes?" "Yes, I've heard that." "I believe," she said, taking her voice down so low that the attendant had to strain to hear it, "he does not have to marry because he is also in love with the Demon Lord." "No!" the other woman breathed. "Both princes vying for the affections of the same -man-? Impossible!" "It's true!" swore the princess. "But you're the only person I've told. The court, I've gathered, does not see the Dark Prince in a... sexual fashion. They would never believe him to have affection for anyone, not even his own family members, let alone this Demon Lord. I mean, all I'd heard was that they were friends because they were both asexual and had no interest in that sort of thing so they naturally gravitated towards friendship. But they've not seen what I've seen." "What did you see?" "A look," she smiled, her eyes glossing over. "Oh, my dear, sweet, ignorant cow, a look! It was... purely romantic. A lover's look. It almost makes the Dark Prince normal, now, when I think of it. Such a conundrum. Cares for no one, talks to no one, won't even look at anyone. Yet, he -sees- the Demon Lord. -Loves- him! Oh, if only you'd seen that look!" The attendant sat back then, pleased she had been able to distract her ward by allowing her to gossip to her heart's content. "Ah, you do not speak of the royal family as being so awful now." "Do not mistake me," hissed the princess. "They -are- awful creatures, all of them. Just because the Dark Prince can be seen in such a splendid light for only a moment does not change my opinion of them. Did you know Prince Gohan regularly forces others into his bed? Thoroughly destroys others in the arena? Do you know how many lives he's taken? How many lives that Prince -Goten- has taken? I've heard the screams from the dungeon where he resides. Those people must not have lived. I can't imagine anyone living through whatever punishment he metes out. Those screams... Oh! Where is my father?! I want to leave!" Sighing deeply, the attendant patted her charge's hand and gave her a small smile, hoping to alleviate her return to her original state of distress. "He will arrive soon, I'm sure." "I hope so," the princess whimpered. "What can be keeping him?" "I don't know, milady," stated the other woman. "Just take comfort in the fact that Prince Gohan did not choose you to wed and that you'll never have to see him nor any of his family again for as long as you live." "Yes, that is a comfort," she nodded. "I pity anyone who has to put up with these monsters on a daily basis. That poor Demon Lord. To think that he, who does not have any interest in the Golden Heir, must endure being the object of that vile creature's affection." "And Prince Goten's." "Well, I daresay he enjoys -his- affections." "Enjoys them?" the attendant queried. "I know you said the younger prince looked at -him- with affection. You did not say it was returned." "Did I not? You must not have heard me clearly then," covered the princess, despite the fact that she knew perfectly well she probably had not stated that they each looked upon the other identically. "I said that they -exchanged- a lover's look. I think it must be quite the secret, though. I'm sure no one would see a match between Prince Goten and the Demon Lord as favorable, especially not Prince Gohan, since he also wants him." "Well," started the attendant, "we'd do well to keep it to ourselves, milady. If they caught wind that we knew..." The princess gasped, tears welling in her eyes. "I shudder to think what might be done to us. We could find -ourselves- in the dungeon... Oh, where is my father?" "I'm right here, my dear," announced an old man from the opening doorway. "Father!" grinned the princess. "What took you so long?" "I just finished overseeing the packing of your belongings," he stated. "You brought entirely too many possessions." "Hmmph. Do not." "Whatever you say, my dear. Now, take care to strap yourself in for the flight. Take-offs are always bumpy." "Of course, father," she nodded. Once the old man left, the attendant took care to buckle the princess and herself into their seats, and her charge leaned over to whisper, "See now? We're finally leaving. I don't know how anyone could stay here willingly for longer." "Perhaps they have no choice, milady," suggested the attendant. "Maybe. Regardless, I've never been more pleased to leave a place in my life. Good riddance." *** Bulma sighed as the warm water rushed over her raw skin. She had just scrubbed herself clean for the third time, having been unable to bathe for the past four days. Lord Kakarrot had wanted to take as much pleasure as he could from her before he went away again. The fact that she had been so long without bathing seemed to only excite the ogre even more, as he said that he enjoyed her musky scent. Especially after sex, when his scent was mixed with hers. She rather thought he was out of his mind. "Are you going to be finished with your shower any time today?" Zarbon inquired from where he leaned against the door, watching her. "Not until I can't feel his hands on me anymore," Bulma said as she began to lather her body again. "When you marry him..." Zarbon began, his voice thickening in anger and regret and disgust to the point that he was almost unable to say what was on his mind. After a moment, he cleared his throat and tried again, "When you marry him, you will be sleeping with him every night, almost. Before, you were merely his mistress, and he still had a wife to keep him amused. Now, you will be performing her job as well as yours. I doubt he is going to allow you the chance to forget what his hands feel like on you." "You know, you don't have to remind me," Bulma muttered. "I'm just glad I get this little reprieve. I wish I could figure a way out of this mess." Zarbon grinned. "You know, I'm sure there are many out there who would love to be empress." "And they can have it," Bulma replied. With another sigh, she turned off the water. She smiled as Zarbon handed her a towel. "I'd personally prefer to be a peasant somewhere, far away, with you." It was the closest they had ever come to any kind of verbal declaration of love. They had never allowed themselves to voice their emotions before. They hadn't dared. But... things were swiftly changing. Their situation was becoming something terrifyingly new. Their lives as they knew them were coming to an end, and it scared them. Like any creature, though, once scared, they both wanted to fight back. They just didn't know how. Zarbon looked at his mistress, his golden eyes filling with sadness, like water into a cup. "You could never be a peasant. Not in character. Or in my eyes. You will always be a lady." Bulma blushed, turning to look at her feet. She wiggled her toes against the cool tile floor of the bathroom, even as water dripped down to the ground around them. "Though, I wouldn't mind being your... what is the earth custom? Your White Knight, I think it is," Zarbon smiled, trying to get lighten his lady's mood. "Hmm. Come to sweep me off my feet, and carry me away on your white steed to parts and places unknown," Bulma grinned. She muffled a yelp of surprised delight as Zarbon impulsively grabbed her in his arms and twirled her around the bathroom. She giggled as she wrapped her arms around his neck resting her head on his chest, very much aware that she was only wearing a fluffy bath towel. "Oh, my Prince Charming, please, take me away from here!" Zarbon grinned at her before the smile dimmed to something a bit more somber. "I would if I could, m'lady. I would if I could." Bulma sighed into Zarbon's neck, a sound filled with remorse and exhaustion. After a moment, she murmured, "I guess you should put me down, now. Even with Kakarrot gone, I don't trust this place. You could be killed if he found out you were holding me like this." Instead of releasing her, though, Zarbon tightened his hold, savoring the feel of her body pressed against his. He closed his eyes as he confessed, "I would rather him kill me than to have to suffer through him claiming you night after night as his. Death of flesh is easier, I imagine, than that form of torture." To that, Bulma had nothing to say. So instead of trying to, she tightened her arms around her guard's neck, saying without words her agreement. "Would you go away with me?" Zarbon asked, whisper soft, in the blue haired woman's ear. "Would you take the chance of escaping this place with me even though it would be dangerous and there's no guarantee that we'd make it to safety?" "Zarbon, with you, I'd willingly fly into the heart of a supernova," Bulma replied. She knew that it was time, and for a moment she didn't know if she were brave enough to tell him what was in her heart. Gathering up her courage, she managed to actually voice something that had both known for a very long time. "I love you." Zarbon nearly fell to his knees at that, but managed by some miracle to remain standing. She loved him. He had known, of course, but he had never dared to hope that he would ever hear those words outside of his dreams. He felt suddenly stronger, yet weaker at the same time. Strange, to have something he wanted for so long, and never thought to actually obtain. Very strange. "You love me? Truly? "With all my heart," Bulma answered, tears beginning to well in her eyes at the admission. It seemed that a large weight was suddenly lifted from her, and she felt freer in that moment than she had in ages. "Then let's do it. Let's leave this place," Zarbon suggested anxiously, adrenaline already pulsing through his system, and his heart beating fast. "And go where?" Bulma asked, pulling her head away to stare up at her azure skinned fantasy. "And how?" "Let's steal a ship and... just leave," Zarbon responded, sitting on the edge of the bathtub, causing his lady to sit across his lap. He had to sit down, otherwise he was going to start pacing, still carrying her. Her brow wrinkled and she pursed her lips, trying to figure out a plan. After a moments pause, time enough to think that perhaps she was refusing his request, she replied, "We'd have to do it closer to the time of the wedding, when there are more people coming and going, and we could get lost in the chaos of it. There'll be more ships to chose from then, too." "Hmm. True. Very true," Zarbon said, his eyes darting around the room though he wasn't really seeing what was there. "This will take some planning." "Yes. It will," Bulma stated quietly. But then she smiled, laughing a little. "But it will be worth it." "Yes, it will," Zarbon echoed, his own smiling chasing some of his fear away. Together, they would make it work. That thought caused him to frown. "What of your son? Should we take him with us?" "Trunks." Bulma nodded, her mind racing at paces it hadn't really gone at since the resistance crumbled. Thinking aloud, she began to strategize. "I... He's with 17 right now and protected. I would love to take him with us; I don't think he'd want to, though. It would be an entirely foreign environment, no familiar place to hide, and if we did manage to make it out of system, it'd still be more dangerous for him to be aboard the ship with us being hunted than it would be for him to be hiding within his shadow ways here." "So, he shall remain here," Zarbon acknowledged. "Wise. But, how will you tell him?" "I don't know, but it will be soon. There isn't that much time." *** The music was slowly driving him insane. Vegeta glared up at the ceiling, wondering if perhaps he should just end everyone's torment and blast the intercom to charred bits. Granted, it was past midnight, and there wasn't anyone else in the store other than him, and about two people who worked at the store, but that was beside the point. Sighing, he shook his head and decided against it. He doubted the grocery store would approve of such actions, and he knew he didn't want to waste his money trying to replace it. He was standing in the middle of an isle, staring at row upon row of pasta. Macaroni, linguini, fettucine, fusilli, capellini, and more. '_What the hell is wrong with Italians?_' he briefly wondered. He wasn't really in the mood to be shopping, but there wasn't anything left at the house, and he knew he needed to eat. Behind him, he already had a cart and a half filled. He was almost done, and he couldn't wait to leave. He hadn't been getting any sleep recently, and it was beginning to wear on him. Dreams. Damn dreams that left him angry and lonely and disgusted with himself. Wishing for things he had never thought to truly want before, truly desire. But now he felt desire all too easily, all too readily. Every night, the dreams returned to him. Sometimes, there wasn't any sex, only action and talk, though he could rarely ever remember what was said. But other times there was sex. Passionate, fulfilling, heated sex. For a while, there was sex every night! Unfortunately, he wasn't allowed to slake his hunger, as if the only time he was allowed to climax was while he was there, living in his dreams. The one he wanted wasn't there, wasn't accessible to him, only his damn scent was there to haunt him. He had even thought of bringing home someone else, someone he could pick up from his bar. But that didn't work, as he could never bring himself to find interest in anyone he saw. He knew who he wanted, what he wanted, and how he wanted it. It was just... there wasn't any way he could see to -get- what he wanted. Besides, sometimes he found the human's smell to be comforting. Familiar, almost. He had decided against going to work on this particular night, as he hadn't been able to sleep for entire past week. He hadn't had the drive to go workout, either, which was something that was almost unbelievable. Instead, he had become distracted. He had discovered several home movies and had been watching them for the better part of the day. Some were old, well before he sent Raditz to fetch Kakarrot. Some were newer, such as Gohan's bachelor party. There were several, and they spanned decades. The small prince had been devouring the sights and sounds of them, learning them as if his very existence depended upon him knowing every slightest thing about them. He had just finished watching one video that was divided between one of Gohan's birthdays, and a day at the beach for Yamcha and a few of his baseball teammates and their families. The image of Yamcha lying on the sandy shore of a blue-green ocean, his shorts soaked and water dripping off of him was stuck in his head. There was a nasty, new scar very visible to the camera's unforgiving eye. The human had his head tossed back, laughing, propped up on his elbows. He had told the person behind the camera that it was from helping his ex-girlfriend move some stuff around. Vegeta knew otherwise, though. HE had given Yamcha that scar, marred tanned flesh to prove a point. He had wanted the human to remember something that would last as long as his flesh did... but it was a lesson the short prince had already forgotten. And it shamed the prince to realize that he had hurt the human, for a useless show of dominance, as if Yamcha would ever really threaten to overpower him. A slight frown began to form as his mind flashed upon a recent dream, where he had marked the human's back with his family crest. A slight shiver raced up his spine as he remembered Yamcha -asking- to be branded in the traditional fashion, his voice husky and full of sweetly dark promises. The royal saiyajin shook his head as if to dispel such thoughts, and reached for a package. He was pulled up short by a voice calling to him, and he turned around to greet the intruder with a dark scowl. "Hello, brat." "Hey, Vegeta!" Gohan grinned, a pint of ice cream in his hand. He looked the shorter man over, noticing that Vegeta seemed a bit... haggard. "Damn, you look like death warmed over. What happened?" "What an astute observation," Vegeta growled, heading back down the aisle with his carts. One reason he was shopping at night was so that no one would bother him. Apparently, that tactic failed. "Well, I mean, you -do- kinda look like shit," Gohan responded, following him. He hadn't seen the other male in a while and was curious as to how Vegeta was doing after his 'divorce' with Bulma. Who knew that they had never been formally married? He certainly hadn't. "So, do you always go grocery shopping in the middle of the night?" "I could ask you the same," Vegeta remarked, his eyes scanning the stacks of frozen food behind their glass doors. He rather hoped that the demi-saiyajin would take the hint and just leave, but it didn't seem as if he was -that- observant. Of course, if the home movies were any indication, Gohan hadn't been aware of too many things in his life. "Well... Just... wanted some ice cream," Gohan replied, his voice sounding a bit uncertain. "In the middle of the night," Vegeta scoffed, one eyebrow arched as he turned to look at the other male. He was aware that they were in plain sight of anyone who wanted ice cream of their own. "Only time I can get away, really, aside from work and stuff," Gohan noted carelessly. "Hn." He turned to look at the younger man, actually seeing him for the first time. Gohan had always been powerful. He had a family that adored him, and friends who respected him. He had grown up on this mud ball planet, with excursions elsewhere, but then it was mainly to save 'Mr. Piccolo'. He had matured as far as he would ever get and decided to marry, though his choice of partners was more his mother's decision than his own. Vegeta remembered the recording of Gohan's bachelor party, and how the youth had kept his eyes more on the door than on the stripper who was quite obviously trying to get the guest of honor into a better mood than he had been. At his own wedding, he was constantly fidgeting, nervously looking around, as if trying to see if everyone was there. The unrelenting eye of the camera caught every smile and every laugh of the day, but it managed to catch what wasn't there as well. The laughter and smiles never reached Gohan's innocent eyes. Vegeta had spotted a vague figure at the wedding, and had played that particular part backwards and then forwards in slow motion to discover who it was. Piccolo had attended the wedding ceremony, though no one had ever discovered him there. Vegeta understood, just from one stilled frame of the show, why the visitation remained a mystery. The look of outright pain on the Namek's face would have caused the saiyajin prince a few good laughs at another time in his life. But now, he found that same image staring back at him in the human's dresser mirror every morning he woke up in his borrowed bed. As if sensing Vegeta's train of thought, Gohan tried to venture into the topic in which he was most interested. "So... I understand you're living at Yamcha's condo now." "I understand your marriage is going to shit. Oh, wait. It always -has- been shit," Vegeta snapped back. He didn't want the kid poking into his affairs, or lack thereof in this case. Especially since he was all confused on the matter. Gohan had had everything practically handed to him. All he would ever have had to do was actually announce to his family his connection with Piccolo, and no one would have cared, well, other than that shrew of a mother he had. "Well..." Gohan began, but found that he couldn't bring himself to lie to the older man. "Why are you -really- here? Couldn't wait to get away from that ridiculous human female you call a 'wife'?" Vegeta snorted. Yes, Gohan had had every opportunity. And what did he do with it? He married someone he didn't even care for in order to please his mother. Vegeta narrowed his eyes at the demi-saiyajin, annoyed beyond words at the audacity of the brat. "Sheesh! You're in a mood. What jumped up your ass and died?" Gohan quipped, stepping back as if to ward off a blow. He didn't know what had brought on the attack, but he soon found that Vegeta wasn't about to let it go. "Seen your tall, green friend -- and I use that term loosely -- lately?" Vegeta hissed, all too aware that they were in a public place. If they had been alone, Vegeta rather felt that he would've already taken a swing at the more powerful, yet less experienced fighter. He was getting more and more aggravated the more he thought of Gohan's refusal of Piccolo. It was so -unfair-! Yet, so like the wanting he felt for Yamcha at night, lying awake, too afraid to go to sleep while at the same time wanting those dreams more than he wanted to wake up. "That's not fair," Gohan replied, stopping his retreat to stand still and tall. Just mentioning Piccolo was enough to cause a stirring in his blood, and he didn't like the idea that Vegeta might be slurring the name of his... What could he really call him now? "Really. How so? Have you given him one thought since he... disappeared?" Vegeta asked, crossing his arms over his chest, while silently mocking his opponent. "Of course I have!" Gohan replied in a shout, before quieting his voice and repeating himself. "Of course I have." "Somehow I doubt that. He has been missing for nearly a -year-. But I suppose you're too busy with your wife and family to really notice," Vegeta said with narrowed eyes, taking perverse pleasure in tormenting the spawn of his rival with echoes of his thoughts about himself. "There isn't a day that goes by that I -don't- think about Piccolo," Gohan scowled, taking a menacing step forward. "You've had such a good little life, us evildoers trying to kill you notwithstanding. Doting parents. Loyal sibling. You get to play the average human with your wife and daughter and happily get to string along the namek," Vegeta stated, outlining his train of thought. He was disgusted, both at the demi-saiyajin and at himself. Because, for a while, that had been similar to his life. Content 'wife', loving son, and he got to play the part of a royal prince since his wife was rich. But things changed. He had never been happy with it, anyway. Just as he knew Gohan wasn't happy with his life either. "I do -not- string Piccolo along!" Gohan snarl, the ice cream carton crumbling in his hands as his temper, and his chi flared momentarily, resulting in a chocolate puddle on the floor. "Sure you don't. You know that no matter what happens, he'll always love you. Always be there for you. He's your... What's that stupid human phrase? He's your... your rock. Anchor. Constant." He noticed the use of present tense in Gohan's denial. Bits and pieces of Vegeta's dreams flickered in his mind. He didn't remember too much of his dreams, outside of the parts that haunted him, but there were images and voices that remained. Such as Krillin's voice, the pesky little runt of a monk, mockingly singing that Piccolo was in love... with someone other than Gohan. Smirking, the prince used that to his advantage, trying to test the sudden anger he had awoken like a silly human child with a stick poking at an ant mound. "You know, I wonder something. How would you feel if he moved on? If he... loved someone else that -wasn't- you." "I don't know what you're talking about. Piccolo will always be my best friend and mentor, and... and that's it," Gohan stammered, trying to set things straight. He had never allowed himself to actually say that he felt anything of a romantic nature towards the green fighter, despite the fact that there had been moments between them that were certainly more than just... That didn't mean that those feelings weren't there, but it was his secret. His dream. His fantasy. He allowed himself to undergo the torment of life, living in a nightmare of marital boredom and PTA meetings, because... he didn't know why, really. It was just something he had to do. "Do you think I'm a fool? -Do- you?!" Vegeta asked, both eyebrows raised upward. He couldn't believe that the boy had just insulted him in such a way. "No!" Gohan replied quickly, trying to avoid any trouble. He sighed as he looked down at the mess he had made. If there was a fool here, it most definitely wasn't Vegeta. "No. Of course not." "Then save that bullshit for someone who -doesn't- know better. Like your insipid little wife," Vegeta retorted. "Leave her out of this," Gohan barked back. He was beginning to realize that approaching Vegeta had been a mistake. A BIG mistake. "Fine. Whatever." Vegeta sighed. He was growing weary of this. Still, he couldn't let it go, as if one of the ants had managed to bite him, leaving an abrasive itch that he just -had- to scratch. "But don't lie and say that's all he is to you. I've seen you. I know your little secret. Have for years." "Fine," Gohan answered softly, trying not to dig himself into a deeper hole than he was already in. The idea that someone else might -know- of his love for Piccolo... That was frightening, yet, at the same time it also felt as if a great burden had been lifted from him. He felt lighter inside. Vegeta watched for a moment as various emotions played themselves out over Gohan's all too telling face. When relief shone forth, he couldn't help the evil smirk that formed across his own features. "Heh. So, tell me. How would you feel?" "Feel about what?" Gohan asked, having forgotten for a moment that Vegeta was still there, as was the rest of the world. Dimly, he heard the intercom ring for 'clean up'. As if there were enough people in the store to actually spare someone to clean up the mess he'd made in the aisle. Then again, there wasn't an -army- out there that could clean up the mess he'd made of his life. "Do you -ever- listen?" Vegeta nearly shouted in renewed vexation. He took a deep breath of the stale store air before continuing again. "I asked it already. If he didn't love you anymore. If he found someone better than you. Someone who... deserved him." Thinking about it, the entire idea seemed not only impossible, but rather ridiculous. As far as anyone else was concerned, Piccolo was asexual, which he'd said himself, yet that didn't necessarily mean he -couldn't- be... sexual. Nevertheless, since it was Vegeta asking him, he took the time to think about it. Seriously. He'd feel... rejected. Hurt. Unloved. Abused. But... he had a wife and child, and he knew that to feel those things after a friend had found a loving partner was almost a form of betrayal. He just didn't know who he was betraying. Blinking, he gave forth his very honest answer. "... I don't know." "You should prepare yourself for that. No one waits forever," Vegeta stated softly, dangerously. Gohan blinked at him a few more moments, and then silently walked away. Grateful for the reprieve, Vegeta grabbed his two carts and headed straight for the check out. He wanted to get away before anyone else decided they wanted to have a chat with him. He was already to the door with his white wings of plastic bags by the time Gohan made it to the register. Vegeta didn't bother looking back as he slipped into the night. He took a running start and jumped into the air, the plastic whipping noisily as he flew. Fortunately, he didn't have far to go, as Yamcha's apartment was close by. He settled on the roof and then climbed the stairs a few floors down, grateful that the humans were usually to lazy to even bother with the stairwell, preferring to take the slow elevator. He put the groceries away efficiently and quickly. Afterwards, when all the bags were bundled up and stashed away, he began looking around for something else to do. He didn't want to go to sleep yet. He didn't want to dream, especially after the exchange in the market. Vegeta glanced at the spare room's door. Tilting his head to the side, he proceeded towards it. Inside, there was a complete absence of the aroma that seemed embedded in the rest of the house. There were also a lot of boxes and... things. Vegeta noticed that there was also a twin bed tucked into the far corner. Raising an eyebrow, he began to think. He turned around and went in search of a few spare capsule containers. He thought that it wouldn't take much to clean the room and use it as his own. It would be one way to dispel the nightly dreams. The prince pushed the slow burning ache that began to burn in his chest at the thought of NOT waking up to the human's smell and ghostly presence, as he knew that it was the only way to get at least one night's worth of sleep. He found four spare capsule containers, though he wasn't sure if they were going to be the proper size to contain all that was in the room. They were rather small containers... With a shrug, Vegeta went about his chosen task. He worked quickly and mechanically, simply trying to clear space. He was making headway, almost three fourths of the room cleared, when he picked up a box that didn't have as strong a bottom as it seemed. The contents of the box spilled out onto the floor making an even larger mess than had been there before. With a disgusted sigh at himself, Vegeta knelt down to begin to clean it up. But something caught his eyes, allowing him to momentarily forget what he was doing. He eyed the large, bookish object amongst the other miscellaneous items then bent down to pick it up, assuming he'd find notes or newspaper clippings like the human had been prone to collect. Instead, several pairs of eyes stared back at him. The binder was a photo album, and the image on the first page was a full-page photograph of that ridiculous group of people into which the saiyajin had unfortunately been suckered. Vegeta sneered at the picture. '_All of their stupid grins_,' he thought, '_showing how completely naïve and ridiculous they all are._' With each page he turned, the prince found himself becoming more and more agitated as each happy face smiled sappily up at him. He found it all to be horrifyingly repulsive, worse than the home movies. Finally, he turned a page so hard that it snapped a photograph clean in two. '_Shit_,' he cursed inwardly. His eyes focused on the two separate pieces: the one still in the album and the one in his hand. It had been a photo of Goku and Yamcha, fairly close up to boot. Vegeta rolled his eyes at the shit-eating grin plastered across Goku's face. He would admit it to no one, but he kind of liked the younger saiyajin despite his occasional intellectual difficulties. Then he glanced over the half of the image in his hand. Yamcha. Unlike the larger male, Yamcha wasn't wearing a stupid grin. Instead, he had a devious smirk, as if to say he knew something that no one else did. The saiyajin prince looked a bit closer at the picture, trying to remember where he had seen that look before. Vegeta's eyes narrowed, as the image on the small flat surface seemed to stare back at him, visibly reminding him of the dreams. Dark eyes widened as he realized that -that- was where he had seen that grin. In his dreams. Just before he claimed the human every night, the only act that ever wiped that smirk from his scarred face. Adamant that he would -not- go back to thinking about the dreams, he allowed the torn photo to slip from his fingers, and he didn't bother to pick it back up, opting instead to go back to flipping through the photo album. Once he finally got to the last page, he fingered the edge of the one large photo on the page, a group picture. The tiniest hint of a smile played across his features as he studied each figure in the portrait. Goku, as always, was right in the middle with a huge grin plastered on his face. Surrounded by his family and Gohan's. Vegeta smirked when he realized the eldest demi-saiyajin did not have his arm around his wife nor his daughter; it was around the namek. Letting his eyes drift across the photo, the moved to Goten and Trunks, then to Krillin and his family, and then at long last to Bulma, himself... and Yamcha. He stared at the taller male standing behind him with a grin that rivaled any from the Son family. A slight frown etched itself onto his face. Reaching a hand forward with his thumb angled straight out, he began to crop the picture to show just himself, sliding his hand over the image's surface. His hand stilled when he'd cut out everyone but him and the scarred human. '_If this had been all of the photograph taken_,' he thought, '_we would've looked like a couple._' That sudden thought jolted him back to reality, causing him to drop the book onto the floor. Quickly, he scooped up the items from the broken box and deposited them into a nearby open box, which was luckily not entirely full. He then placed the book and a few scraps that had fallen from it into the same box. The torn picture of Yamcha smirking found its way into Vegeta's pocket, though he was unaware of putting it there. When the room was finally cleared, Vegeta made up his new bed, using a few extra blankets to keep the November chill away. Stripping down, he climbed under the covers and tried to fall asleep. He closed his eyes for a moment, intent on nothing but seeking unconsciousness. But even as he focused on it, he found his eyes snapping open. Leaning over the bed, he snatched the picture from his pocket. He looked at it for a few more moments before plucking his wallet out. Then carefully, he slipped the image into the space available for family photos. It was the only picture in there.   



	22. Seeing Red

_Disclaimer- Deani, here, on behalf of Summer and myself. Officially, we have no rights to DBZ or whatever. However, we'd like to stress that without us fans, DBZ and all other forms of entertainment would be dead and pointless. So, really, I can't see what all the bitching is about. Without us, you got nothing, you bastards. Deal._

_Warnings- Yaoi, angst, violence, character death. Do not tread these waters lightly, folks. It's a good time, but only if you're prepared for it._

**Kingdom Come**  
~ Chapter 22 

People were going to die. Heads would roll. Blood would be spilt.

And it would be good.

Lord Kakarrot stalked some of the more deserted corridors of his palace, his tail lashing out angrily behind him occasionally. It was after the curfew hour, when the majority of people were secure in their rooms. There was still a low roar of activity, though. It was less than a week until his long awaited wedding. But the bride-to-be was mysteriously absent.

At first he had thought that some foolish individual had thought to kidnap her for future ransom. But that idea was dismissed, as no ransom note was given, and no one could find Zarbon's corpse, for surely he would have defended his mistress unto death. Then, it was believed that Zarbon took Bulma, but the galactic ruler dismissed that idea out of hand. The blue skinned guard didn't have enough spine or brains to plan something like this, especially since it was an automatic death sentence. No, the one responsible was none other than the emperor's betrothed. There wasn't any clue as to who was really behind it, but the saiyajin ruler knew that it couldn't be anyone other than the beautiful, daring, intelligent, crafty, rebellious human woman.

He smiled savagely. She was inviting him to hunt her down, and it was an invitation he loathed to refuse. But once he -did- track her down, Zarbon was dead, as was anyone else who was with her. And in the mean time... he was going to have Trunks found and tortured as punishment for her insolence. But it wouldn't be Goten who hurt him. No, this was something so personal, he rather thought it was fitting that one of her old resistance weapons was the one responsible for the demi-saiyajin's injuries. Plus, he didn't want Goten to have all the fun.

When he had called for the blond android, she came quickly, bowing at his feet in her loyalty. He had smiled at her, though he wasn't sure if it reached his eyes, and he really didn't give a damn if it did or not. He bid her rise, and asked, "So, 18, are you... entertained by the human you are guarding?"

A mix of emotions flashed across the otherwise cold and doll-like face. Grimacing slightly, she replied, "Hardly, milord."

"Interesting," the monarch smirked. Clasping his hands behind his back above his waving tail, he took a couple of steps towards her, the smirk never leaving his face. "Then perhaps you wouldn't be opposed to a... special assignment in lieu of your current engagement."

"A special assignment, sire?" she inquired.

"Yes. As you may or may not have been informed, my..." The saiyajin paused momentarily, trying to think of what to call her. A great many things came to mind, but he couldn't bring himself to call her names when he knew that he still wanted her. So, he went for something a bit more benign. "My future wife has disappeared. And while I fully intend to pursue her the moment my ship is ready, I feel that punishment should be administered in the meantime."

"And may I ask what this punishment might be and what it has to do with me?"

"Wouldn't you agree, 18, that it's always more effective to harm the loved ones of your enemy than your enemy himself?" In his mind, ever so briefly, the image of his past wife, Lady Chichi, and her guard sprang forward, painting the world around him in red. Blood red. He shook it away, but found that the image was one that never truly left him for long. He hadn't loved her, had never claimed to. But still, the image remained to taint his mind, which truly told of the effectiveness of his plans.

"Always, milord."

"My precious jewel values nothing, I think, more than her wretched bastard of a son," the man said softly, admitting briefly, that the one person he wanted, the one person he loved as much as he was capable, held no such feeling of affection towards him. That was another reason he wanted to make her suffer. Just a bit. "Therefore, wouldn't it make the most sense to... punish her through him?"

"Without a doubt."

Lord Kakarrot turned his back to the blonde android then, gazing out at the black night. "Find him. Hurt him. -Damage- him. But do not kill him. A dead whelp is worthless. A severely injured one -- one who could, for example, never walk again -- hurts more." Looking back at her over his shoulder, he harshly stated, "I want it to hurt. -Deeply-."

The answer did not come to her quickly. Pausing for longer than she should have, the blonde finally began, "Milord..."

"Is that hesitation I hear, 18?" The galactic ruler turned to look her over, piercing her with his steady, angry gaze.

"Preservation," she corrected. "It's about my brother..."

"17? What about him?" Lord Kakarrot snapped.

"He's become... strange about Trunks," she replied. She thought back to times when she'd seen the two of them together. There was the kiss for good luck, the time she had interrupted them... doing something she -still- didn't know, and a few other times that had her questioning her brother's sanity. After all, it was Trunks of all creatures! But still, it was her brother, and she was his sister, no matter his poor taste. "Were I to 'damage' him as you've requested, that could have serious repercussions between my brother and myself."

The emperor scowled. "17 knows his place in the empire. And he knows Trunks'. Should he oppose you, I will take care of him personally."

Blue eyes widened, and a strand of actual emotion entered her voice as she blurted out, "But, sire, he's my brother." He was all she really had!

"Oh, for the gods' sakes. I don't intend to -kill- him. But he will remember where his place is here, should he forget." The saiyajin waved a hand, as if the entire situation wasn't of much consequence. And to him, it wasn't. What was important was Bulma being taught a lesson.

"I understand," 18 said as she bowed her head, somewhat appeased. She was still slightly worried that 17 might take it personally, but that didn't stop the quick thrill that raced up her spine at the thought of actually -doing- something again. Something out of which she -would- get satisfaction, unlike chasing after someone who was claiming to have 'found faith again' and returned to monkish ways, including a vow of chastity.

"Now... Will you do it?"

"It would be my pleasure, Lord Kakarrot," 18 answered as she raised herself up again. There was a definite gleam in her blue eyes, and it had nothing to do with the lighting of the room.

He dismissed her after that, but that left him with time on his hands. He hated waiting, and it would be at least another half a day until his ship was ready to fly after the blue-haired human. In the mean time... the spiked-haired warrior was just itching to kill something. Anything or anyone, just to pass the time. He didn't like to be kept idle when there were things to be done.

As he hunted the hallways, something caught his attention. He paused in his meanderings, wondering what it was. A soft, giggling laughter drifted his way, catching the emperor off guard. Turning towards the direction from which he thought the sound came, the tailed liege went to investigate. If there were curfew breakers, it would be well within his rights for him to simply slaughter them. If nothing else, it would be a momentary distraction, something to break the monotony, something to occupy him. He moved as quietly as an assassin.

Which, to his startled amazement, was a good thing. 

For a man that had caused entire planets to bow, that had caused more mayhem and destruction in his single life than many armies had in theirs, the sight before him brought him up short. He was hidden by one of those strange fern-like plants that were occasionally placed throughout the palace, as if some idiot had wanted to bring a jungle inside. He doubted he'd be very visible to the couple even if they were paying attention. 

But they weren't paying any attention to anyone or anything than each other.

Lord Kakarrot's eyes were as large as twin moons as he looked on. The Demon Lord had his youngest son pinned to the inside of a small alcove where they both were, his broad back to the ruler. The youngest demi-saiyajin had his legs and tail wrapped around Piccolo's waist, his feet hooked together. One pale hand rested at the back of a green scalp, pressing for more. The other hand was clutching at the purple gi. The Demon Lord's customary hat and cape were strewn about the ground as if dumped in haste.

These things were barely registered as the warrior king watched in complete shock, waiting for the moment that the boy would start to fight back. Instead, Lord Kakarrot was floored by Goten's soft giggle of, "Piccolo, gods, more, just... Yes..."

For a moment, the father of the boy was so totally confused that he wasn't sure -what- was going on. And then he realized Piccolo had his head tilted to the side at an angle that would be just about right to be... kissing Goten's neck. The green warrior's arms seemed to be holding the demi-saiyajin up, cupping him closer, as if the wall at Goten's back wasn't good enough. The emperor knew that his jaw was open, but he couldn't seem to close it.

He continued to watch as the young prince smiled and purred, obviously enjoying whatever the tall tournament winner was doing. They were clearly both still clothed, but that didn't mean too much. Lord Kakarrot shivered slightly when he was able to actually see all of Goten's face, when he was able to see his expression. Dark eyes were half-lidded, glittering in the darkness. There was a light stripe of a blush across his features. He was smiling and gasping at the same time, giggling every now and then. The small prince ducked his head, sliding his tongue between ivory teeth in a hiss before gasping, "Um, Piccolo..."

Even from where he was standing, Lord Kakarrot could hear the low rumble that was obviously a questioning response.

"Uh... ohhh. Mmm," Goten laughed, his eyes almost dancing with light before closing in mirth. "Uh, bedroom? Now. Please?"

There was a low rumble in reply, words so deep and low that the saiyajin emperor was unable to discern them. But it caused the feared ruler to snap back to reality. He felt electric chills racing over his body, and he knew that his eyes had yet to go back to their customary size. He couldn't believe it, though. Goten. His youngest son, the one that he had never thought would sleep with anyone unless under penalty of death -- and even then it was questionable -- was obviously being VERY friendly with the Demon Lord.

Just then, Goten turned his face in the direction of the emperor, those heavy eyelids sliding up just enough for the young prince to catch the gaze of his father. Embarrassment flashed in the glazed eyes momentarily, but it was immediately replaced with something else, something Lord Kakarrot could not quite place. Their eyes locked, though Goten didn't cease his amorous activities with Piccolo, despite his knowing his father was right there, watching them. But the eye contact ceased the moment the prince closed his eyes again and moved his mouth to capture the Demon Lord's in a kiss.

Lord Kakarrot felt that final motion was a good cue for him to make his exit without being further detected. Taking great care in his movements, the full-blooded saiyajin made a strategic withdrawal. Once he was a decent distance away, a huge grin broke out onto his face. '_Finally!_' he thought to himself.'_That boy is finally getting laid! Took him long enough. And the Demon Lord -is- a reasonable prospect, even with him being male and all. Oh, well. Matters not. At least Goten's having sex. Which is good. Gods! This is amazing! I never would have suspected it. Although... I somehow doubt my elder son will approve. Didn't he want that Piccolo for himself? That's what he gets for not choosing one of those princesses at my engagement party. Ha! Serves him right._'

'_Honestly, though, Goten couldn't have chosen better. If the rest of Piccolo's kind is as strong as him, or even -half- as strong, they could prove invaluable allies. Even the -humans- in his company are at least moderately formidable. Better allies than enemies, I would think._' The wheels in the monarch's head spun quickly as they focused in on the strategic possibilities of his son's newly discovered activities, a welcome distraction from his previous state of fury at having to wait for his ship to be refueled. '_Hmm. Perhaps a treaty? Those haven't worked very well for my empire in the past. Always end up killing them for treachery or some other such nonsense. If there was something more substantial, however... Argh! If only I could get them to marry._'

Suddenly, a light went off in Lord Kakarrot's mind. '_Why the hell not? Why couldn't two males marry? I know of no laws against it, and even if there were, I could abolish them. I -am- emperor, after all, am I not?_' A viciously intent grin broke out on the royal's smug face. '_Why not, indeed? Gohan would be displeased, of course. But Goten no longer must breed, so, really, this would be the best option for all of us. Hmm. Mustn't tell Gohan about my plans. He'd be likely to kill Goten before I returned. No. I'll tell him after I've returned with my bride and -after- I've persuaded Goten and the Demon Lord to marry. Now... How shall I get them to marry..._'

***

Had it been so long? She couldn't remember the last time she felt bones crushing beneath her fingers, flesh tearing so easily. Of course, there had been so many in her lifetime. But this time... She was certain she'd remember this brutality for the rest of her unnatural life.

It had started simply enough. Once Lord Kakarrot had given her the order to 'damage' the young demi-saiyajin, she sought him out immediately, knowing that her brother wouldn't be around to stop her. It hadn't taken her long to find him. Trunks was asleep in 17's bed, completely unsuspecting. All it took was a little rope to bind his hands and feet and a bag tied off around his head to essentially incapacitate him. The little moron didn't even have it in him to scream for help, only to whisper for her brother. Not that anyone would have helped him. No one was allowed to. No one ever did, other than 17 occasionally. But he wasn't there.

It was almost amusing to her that it would come down to this. She remembered Trunks' birth. Remembered the day he lost his rights as a living being and became anyone's meat. Remembered the first time she'd seen the boy beaten and tortured. Ah, that Prince Goten. Far ahead of his time. 18 knew even when Goten was a mere child of two or three that he would eventually succeed the Royal Inquisitor of that time.

Goten had been so eager to please his family, to prove himself in their eyes. He had been the youngest, and had to suffer through his brother being the best at everything he tried. Goten had known from an early age that he was merely an understudy to his brother, someone who would only be called upon to act if all available options had been exhausted. To show that he wasn't worthless, he had sought out the slightly older demi-saiyajin, a challenge because Trunks was older and faster and had seemed slightly smarter than the youngest prince.

When 18 had walked in, fetching the boy to attend his evening meal with Gohan, she had found them. Trunks was a mess of blood and bruises, his tail broken and several patches of fur missing. Several of the royal's toys were broken, sharp pieces embedded into soft, pale flesh. Her cool eyes scanned him a moment before shrugging, "Have you broken another toy?"

She recalled at the time being taken aback by the child's retort, not fully comprehending how a child so young could be so very well spoken. He had turned to her, his dark, brandy-colored eyes shining, "I guess so. So, did you come here to be my -next- toy, or is there a reason you just barged in here?"

Trunks hadn't had a chance in hell of dodging him, even though the purple-haired boy had learned early on how to stay out of people's way and under radar. Whereas Trunks had to hide, Goten was just ignored for the most part. He had been as arrogant as the rest of his family, with a bit more anger behind his bite. But then, it had come time for someone to take over the Inquisitor's job, as the older torturer wasn't as effective as he could have been. Or as effective as Lord Kakarrot had wanted him to be.

Prince Goten was five years old.

And perhaps the Royal Inquisitor wasn't quite as inept as the emperor had previously thought. It was rumored that the older man had performed nearly every form of torture he could, though no one could ever substantiate those claims; not once did anyone ever hear the child scream or cry out. After six long years of learning everything he -could- learn about what it meant to be the Inquisitor, Goten came out of that dark, dank place... and everyone discovered what Trunks had long ago. There was a marked change to the prince, something not overtly noticeable. His eyes were no longer brandy-colored, more like the murky dark of a forest at night. He wasn't as large as the rest of his family, but after coming out of that subterranean torture chamber, his physical size no longer mattered.

At the emperor's insistence, Prince Gohan led the Ginyu Force down into the dungeon in search of the Inquisitor; they discovered he was dead. And he clearly did not die from anything typically natural. Gohan returned with the Ginyu Force barely behind him, mostly shaking and desperately trying to avoid vomiting on the glass-like main hall floor. Those warriors, battle-hardened from planet purging missions, feared across the cosmos, came out of that place clearly shaken.

Gohan nonchalantly approached his father, holding something pinched between a gloved thumb and forefinger at arm's length away from his body. His face being absolutely void of any emotion, the eldest prince apathetically plopped the long, reddish-pink object at the emperor's feet, stepping a few feet back afterwards. Lord Kakarrot snarled in disgust. "What. Is. That."

"The old man's tongue," Gohan replied. "I think."

The monarch's jaw jutted out, and he rolled his eyes in irritation. "And where is the old man, Gohan?"

"I dunno," he shrugged. Further back in the court, the Ginyu Force was barely hanging on by a thread, each face an ashen grey, bodies convulsing with not-so-dry heaves. Gesturing towards the bloody appendage with a jerk of his head, Gohan continued, "That's all there was."

"I see."

After a few moments in which not a soul uttered a single sound, the eldest prince nudged the tongue with the toe of his boot. "You know, we should... probably... have it sanitized."

"The tongue?"

"The dungeon, father."

"Oh. Of course," he nodded. "See that it's taken care of, will you?"

"Of course, milord," bowed his eldest.

"And where is Goten?" Lord Kakarrot inquired, looking around himself. The royal jerked back in his seat just slightly. Standing a few feet off to the side and behind the throne was the young prince, looking for all the world like he was incredibly bored with the proceedings. '_Gods! I had no idea he was even there!_' Had one of his lessons been to learn how to move as silent as the grave? "Come here, son."

Goten approached slowly, calmly, with a confidence and countenance that bespoke of someone three times his age. Kneeling next to the throne, he was rewarded with a firm pat to the head. Lord Kakarrot smirked as he addressed the child, "Well done, my son. You will be the greatest Royal Inquisitor this empire has ever seen."

The young prince never did let up on Trunks after that. But unlike the many brutes who had beaten and raped the lavender-haired child, Goten never descended to that level. His games were just as painful, to be sure. However, Trunks was never close to death once the prince was finished with torturing him for the day; he only wished for death. And he was not alone. Many had witnessed the aftereffects of one of Goten's torture sessions. Sometimes, there was more blood than any physical body had a right to contain. Sometimes, there was nothing left of the victim. And sometimes, it seemed like nothing had been done at all, but the injured party was nothing more than a blinking, breathing vegetable.

It was no wonder that the child scared the living daylights out of the entire empire.

Goten may have frightened the empire, but none more so than the slightly older demi-saiyajin. Trunks was hunted, daily. Persecuted by the younger boy by day, but by night, he had more than simply Prince Goten with which to contend. While the prince was going through the hell of the dungeons, Trunks had become the favorite prey of many of the stronger warriors around the palace. Beaten nearly to death on several occasions, bones broken, blood leaking from his mouth and his nose. But then eventually, his tormentors figured out a new method of pain: the sexual kind.

In retrospect, 18 decided it was rather distasteful to rape someone when they weren't even a decade old yet. Even if it was Trunks.

Trunks, even though he welcomed death's embrace for the solace it might have brought him, was never allowed to cross that line. Strangely enough, the boy never got stronger either, or if he did, he was never able to tap into that strength to defend himself. What good was power, if he didn't know how to use it? And it was very apparent to the blonde android that he had no clue how to use whatever strength, mediocre as it might have been, to defend himself as she tore into his body.

***

17 silently stalked through the palace hallways, checking every dark corner, every place he'd known Trunks to frequent. Where was he?

At first, he was puzzled that Trunks had not been asleep in his bed as 17 normally found him practically every night. Yet even on those nights when he wasn't there, he usually showed up within a few minutes of 17's arrival, so the raven-haired android decided to wait a bit.

Half an hour was too long.

Out of sheer concern, he began to look for the demi-saiyajin, even checking in with the humans, though it -was- strange to find one of those clone-like replacement guards standing outside of Krillin's room. '_What's that moron doing there? Where's 18?_'

He didn't spare more than a passing thought for that since his sister's whereabouts were not at the foremost of his worries; Trunks' were. But he was running out of places to look, and more time had passed than he would've liked, doing nothing but making him more and more uneasy with each ephemeral minute. Had anyone been stupid enough to have been out and about at that ungodly hour, they would have seen something they'd never seen before: a severely agitated and nearly frantic Android 17.

'_Where the hell is Trunks?_' he wondered.

***

There was blood on the walls. There was blood on the floor. There was blood staining her uniform; she could feel it beginning to stick to her through the material. There was blood staining the bag still tied up around her victim's head.

But that wasn't enough. Trunks wasn't damaged enough. He had been taken from 17's room wearing a pair of standard sleeping pants, but those were mere ribbons of tattered memories now. His body was streaked with scratches and abrasions and fresh, blossoming bruises. The boy's ankle was broken, and his foot was crushed. There were ribs broken, and his breathing sounded a bit bubbly, as if there was liquid involved. Yet, the android continued forth with her command, knowing that Trunks wasn't hurt enough yet. He simply couldn't be hurt enough.

Trunks still had his hands tied up behind him, yet he continued to try and crawl away. He sobbed quietly against the pain, tears adding to the wetness of the dark bag that stole light and air from him. He felt liquid in his mouth and allowed it to drool outwards, intent on the simple task of getting away. He had to get away. He had to get to 17. 17 would make it all better. 17 would take away the pain. 17...

"You know, Trunks," 18 said as she stalked around her prey, allowing him to think that he might be able to get away, "I sometimes wondered if your whore mother ever told you of your human history. Granted, you're part saiyajin, but you're so weak that you must be more human than saiyajin. So, did she ever teach you of her culture? Her people? Is that where you learned to live your life on your back?"

When Trunks did not reply, she sent a swift kick to his sides, cracking the few ribs that were still unbroken, and causing the boy to cry out in pain. She let a small smile grace her features as she watched him curl up into a little ball, whimpering.

"Did she read to you? Tell you stories? Sing you songs?" the blonde android asked. She didn't wait for an answer, simply taking it upon herself to kick him in the head. Trunks flew across the room and crashed into the far wall. She sighed as she crossed her arms over her chest. She walked over to him, her booted feet making sharp clacking noises as heals came down. "I've read some of the earth nursery rhymes."

Trunks was having trouble breathing, and the room was spinning so badly he knew he was going to be sick, but only if he was able to get in enough air to actually manage it. He was hot and cold at the same time and he knew that 18 was still talking but he couldn't hear what she was saying even though it was important that he listen otherwise she was going to hurt him some more and he didn't want that. He wanted 17. Where was 17?

"Come to think of it, you remind me of one of them," 18 remarked coolly as she waited for some kind of response. "Would you like to hear it?"

Trunks reeled as he felt hard hands grab him by the arms, throwing his back up against a cold, hard surface.

"Of course you want to hear it," the android guard answered for the wheezing youth. She hadn't really cared if she got an answer or not, as she was going to tell it to him either way. She took a deep breath as she began. "Humpty dumpty sat on a wall…"

The demi-saiyajin was suddenly airborne for a moment, before he met up with yet another wall. Trunks heard the sound of bone breaking before he actually felt the pain. He tried to scream in pain, but all that came out was a burbling froth.

"Humpty Dumpty had a great fall," 18 said as she grabbed an already broken lavender tail. It made a sweet, sickly sound as yet another small tailbone snapped. Yet, she still didn't hear a scream of pain. Frowning lightly, she let him fall to the floor before introducing her shin to his head. Trunks fell across the floor, rolling to his side. With narrowed eyes, she stalked towards him. "And all the king's horses... And all the king's men... Couldn't put Humpty Dumpty back together again."

She stood directly over the boy, listening to his breath gurgle. "From what I understand, Humpty Dumpty was supposed to be an egg, but the rhyme serves just as well in this case. Because, there won't be any king's men coming to try and patch you up. And the horses around here, though brighter than your average soldier, won't touch you either. No one's going to put you together again."

Her empty doll eyes stared down at him, reminding her of that time, so long ago, when she had seen Trunks in Goten's room. She raised her hand slightly, and against her open palm, a ball of golden light began to form. Not even realizing she was speaking aloud, 18 softly mumbled to herself, "Looks like I've broken my toy..."

***

For a man who didn't need to breathe to survive, 17 found himself taking quite a few deep breaths. He had to calm down. He had to stay in control. He couldn't panic though he was more than ready to do just that. He was standing in the middle of an intersection between halls, and he didn't know which way to go. He kept turning around, wondering if one way would be better than another, and all he could come up with was more questions that followed along the same lines of, '_Where the hell is Trunks?_'

It was well after the hour of curfew, and none of the local fighters were allowed out of their rooms. Trunks -should- have been in bed! Biting his lower lip, 17 looked around again. But there were no answers springing forth.

The dark-haired android hadn't felt this helpless for as long as he could remember, and he could remember far longer than most. There was more to it than just helplessness, though. There was also frustration. And fear. And concern. It wasn't as if he was hunting Trunks down so that they could cuddle, though that would have been nice. He was hunting Trunks down so that no one else would. He wanted Trunks safe, and the only place that 17 could think of that -was- safe was in his room.

'_What if something happened to Trunks?_' 17 fretted. Acting on impulse, the blue-eyed guard activated his scouter and actually scanned the surrounding areas of the palace, the range on his device being that of one square mile. He scanned for both chi and for energy spikes, something that almost all of the other of the palace denizens never did. It was one of the few ways to find either him or his sister.

He found his sister not too far away from where he was, located in one of the further, more durable rooms of the palace. Her energy reading was building up, as if she was sparring. Dark eyebrows lowered in confusion as 17 wondered who in their right mind would willingly spar with his sister. And at -that- hour. He didn't give it too much thought as he went after her, hoping beyond hope that she might know where his Trunks was. He doubted it, but he was out of options with nowhere else to turn and she might have a clue.

The room his sister was in was down a long, darkened hallway, as was usually the case for the older, more guarded rooms. No one wanted visitors there, so why make it inviting? The android moved with a quite grace that did not detract one iota from his speed. He came upon the heavy stone doors of the room and pressed against them. To his surprise, they were barred. Without bothering to even consider the consequences of interrupting a sparring match between his sister and even the emperor himself, 17 simply blasted the doors inward. He ran a few steps forward...

And then stopped dead in his tracks.

On the ground, almost dead, lay Trunks. His ankles were tied together, and one foot was obviously crushed. His torso was barely recognizable as it was sliced up and stretched out, highlighted by the fact that his delicate wrists were bound behind his back. The playful lavender tail was mangled almost to the point that it was liquid. Body fluids pooled around the still form.

For a moment, 17 couldn't move. Couldn't think. Couldn't do anything except wait for some kind of signal that Trunks was still alive. When he saw the body give a slight shudder, 17 moved. Fast. He was on his knees, undoing the bag around his lover's head with hands that were shaking. He didn't realize that he was murmuring, "Please be all right. Please be all right."

Beside him, and totally unnoticed, 18 stood, an energy sphere still glowing in her hand. She took a cautious step back, away from her brother and his pet half-breed. She continued to step back until the shadows of the room enveloped her in a cloak she hoped would protect her. For the first time she realized the severity of the wounds she had inflicted. For the first time, she realized that the lack of responses from earlier hadn't been an act of defiance, but had been a result of inability. For the first time, she began to worry.

Bruised blue eyes blinked blearily up, seeing light again. There was pain. So much pain. And he couldn't breathe. Trunks tried to inhale once the bag was removed from his head, but he couldn't get any air into his lungs. He turned his head to the side, coughing up blood. He flinched as he saw a pale hand come towards his face, but instead of being hurt as he was expecting, the hand merely brushed his matted hair out of his face and pulled it back behind his head. That's when Trunks realized that 17 was there.

"It'll be all right. It'll be all right," 17 repeated, fervently hoping that it would be. But with a quick catalog of just the apparent injuries, they synthetic warrior realized that there was actually very little reality to those words. Wild blue eyes looked down as Trunks opened his mouth to talk to him, but all that came out of the demi-saiyajin was the softest of gasps. "Please...please be all right, Trunks. Please don't die. Don't leave me." 

17 was there. Trunks tried to say something, but he couldn't get any air. Plus, he was tired and in pain and really only wanted to sleep. He found that his hands were still bound, as he tugged weakly against the bonds. He wished his hands weren't tied, so that he could just touch 17. So that he could say in some way that he was okay, that it was all going to be okay. He knew 17 was holding him, keeping all harm away from him. He was safe. He was with 17. 

She had her back to the wall, and there was nowhere to go. Not that she could have moved at that moment, anyway. She was in slight shock. She looked on in mute horror as her brother, the strong one, the rational one, the best of them, began to weep like a small organic child, repeatedly begging the mongrel half-breed not to die. She rather hoped that Trunks lived, if only so that she wouldn't be punished by Lord Kakarrot. Though, with 17 walking in on this, he would probably take it personally, even though the emperor assured her that he wouldn't. 

Trunks frowned slightly, noticing that he couldn't hear what 17 was saying. He could see the android's lips moving, but he couldn't make out any sound. And there were tears. Why were there tears? He tried to breathe again, but again his body didn't want to work properly. Instead of talking, he merely looked up at his lover, not really seeing the android. All he could see was the man. He wished he could reach up and brush 17's hair out of his face, because it had somehow gotten loose, and he knew that 17 hated having his hair fall in his face. He began to cough again, weakly. He just couldn't stop coughing...

The dark-haired android bowed his head, hot tears streaming down his face. Trunks lay still in his arms, his blue eyes opened, staring upward at him. There was a slight frown on the demi-saiyajin's face, as if he was blaming 17 for not getting there in time, even though he understood that the android couldn't always be there for him. 17 closed both of their eyes, but he knew the guilt would always be there. He should have been there. He should have gotten there sooner. The ebony-haired android knew where his sister stood, almost hidden by the shadows in the room. He'd have known where she was even if the room was cast in pitch. He cradled Trunks' still form closer to him selfishly, denying her any rights to it. It was completely irrational, but he didn't feel like being rational. He wanted to be irrational. She had just stolen the ONLY thing that made him feel alive! He was allowed to be a bit irrational! Fighting the clawing ache at the back of his throat, 17 whispered into Trunks' hair, "I hope you're satisfied. He's dead."

"It was not my intent to kill him," 18 answered, looking away from the huddled form in front of her. She forced herself to look back, though, as this was her brother. He wouldn't hurt her, especially over something as trivial as a lover. But when 17 raised his head, the shadows of the room seemed to embrace him, and only the glowing red of his eyes revealed how enraged he was. "Lord Kakarrot--"

"Is dead," 17 snarled, throwing an overly powerful energy sphere straight at his unsuspecting sister. She barely had time to register the attack before it hit her square in the midsection, bisecting her. He watched, in a detached anger, as her two halves separated, and then flew apart. There was a good four feet between where her upper half fell and where her lower half sprawled. They had been together for all of their lives, siblings. They had bickered and fought, trying to test the limits of they cybernetic enhancements. Trunks had made him alive, though! And now Trunks was dead. "Just like you are."

Gingerly, 17 picked up Trunks' body, as if it was some delicate treasure that would crumble at any moment if not taken proper care of. With silent, quick steps, the android escaped into the night. He had things to do before he could rest. Plans to make. People to kill.

He never looked back.

  



	23. Conversations with Dead People

_Disclaimer- I, Summer Starr, do hereby state that I do not own Dragonball Z. My co-authoress doesn't either. And before you question it, yes, we do have minds. Somewhere. Personally, I think my got washed down the gutter, but hey! At least it's clean. Well, as clean as a mind can be in a gutter._

_Warnings- Yaoi. Violence. AU-ness. Character death. So nice, I think we'll do it twice._ **Kingdom Come**  
~ Chapter 23 The torch's flame flickered in the wind, its steady murmur quieted turning into a slight roar or rage. It was a moment between moments, between night and dawn, when the entire world seemed to be waiting. The wind never really ceased its play across the sandy shore of an under-appreciated beach, but it held back some of its merriment for the somber mood of the single humanoid who plowed through its dance. "I know I promised to take care of you," 17 choked. Torch in hand, he stood beside a small-sized pyre, though it was more than enough for the single occupant upon its raised dais. If he had had time, he would have created something larger, but time was not on his side. He doubted it ever had been. Nearby, statues of long forgotten figures loomed. He felt like something was breaking inside of him, but using his internal sensors, he discovered nothing was physically wrong with him. "I failed you in that." The wind was picking up again, demanding that he hurry, or else it would extinguish the torch's flame. Sand flowed with the current of the wind, sliding over the beach like silk over smooth skin. That internal ache intensified as the android's free hand twitched in a remembered caress. A night, not so long ago... Trunks had been wrapped up like a present in dark sheets of satin. 17 had taken great delight in unwrapping his 'present', letting his hands brush away the sheets with slow deliberateness. Trunks had enjoyed the process just as much, though his vocalizations had been cut to a minimum due to the fact his mouth was preoccupied with a kiss. He had enjoyed exploring all of his lover's body, delighting in the soft sighs and sharp hisses of pleasure that he could elicit. There would be nothing like that for 17 ever again. He could still remember how Trunks felt, writhing against him, moving over or under him, wrapped around him. He could remember how Trunks would tremble against him, almost at the point of climax, afraid while at the same time wanting it. He could remember each and every little telltale signal that was an admittance of pleasure and possible retaliation at a later date. He could still remember how Trunks tasted... He caught the twitching out of the corner of his eye and then raised his hand so that he could visually inspect it. Staring at his now-stilled appendage, he turned to the covered form before him. Trunks lay still forever. Never to move again. Never to laugh again. Never to scream or cry. Blue eyes closed as memories assaulted him. Vivid memories. That first kiss... That first caress... That first night. The last night they were together, simply laying against the lavender-haired youth, spooning him from behind, letting a single thumb trace over Trunks' abdomen. A night where they danced to the sounds of songs written long before the demi-saiyajin was even conceived, their bodies pressed flush against each other, arms wrapped around each other. 17 could still remember how it felt to bury his nose into Trunks' hair, inhaling his scent deeply, as if trying to memorize it for all of eternity. Now, those memories were all he had, ghosts that haunted him. But he wouldn't trade those ghosts for anything. They were all he had now. Opening his eyes, 17 tried to speak again. "I... I felt so alive when I was with you. You made me forget, for just a little while, that I wasn't organic anymore. That I am a machine. You made me live again. And I'll never be... Gods! For everything that you did for me, how did I repay you? I let you die. I'm sorry. So very sorry. You'll never know exactly how sorry I am." His voice stilled as his throat tightened painfully. Taking a few deep breaths to try and get air passed the closed passage, 17 turned away to look out over the horizon. The sea stretched out before him, its waves a never-ending cascade of events. When the ache in his throat lessened a bit, he began again. "I promised to take you to the beach. I know how much you hated it the first time you came, when you were so very young and afraid of all the wide, open spaces. No place to hide. But, after a time, you came to love it just as much as I did. I promised to bring you here, and this is at least one promise that I can keep." His glacial eyes scanned the coast, as if missing something. He watched transfixed as the wind picked up a small amount of sand, twirling it around, forming a figure. The android stilled before the mirage of Trunks standing there, grinning at him his usual shy smile. But then the wind moved on, and the pieces and particles fell back to the earth, lifeless. The pain increased from that reminder. Artificial eyes closed for a moment as 17 tried to regain his voice. When he was able, the android opened his eyes to look out at the sea again, not daring to look at the shore for fear of seeing another illusion. "I... It doesn't seem as beautiful as it could have. It seems rather empty, in fact... without you here. Empty... like I am." Blue eyes turned from gazing at the seemingly endless sea to gaze in the other direction. In the far, far distance -- so far away that if he placed his hand up, 17 would have been able to block out the disgusting blemish of the Imperial Palace and the surrounding spaceport -- their prison stood haughtily. "I wish I could join you. Sleep forever with you. Beside you. But, there are still things that need to be done before I can rest." Being very careful, the artificial guard placed the torch in the expectant hand of a nearby statue, a figure with multiple arms but with a human face. Pulling out a small knife he had tucked in his belt, 17 began to hack away at his long, ebony tresses. With each lock of hair he cut, he laid it down on the gauze wrapped form, writing out both of their names. Moving the cloth slightly, the android was able to cut away some of Trunks' longer, lavender hair. "I doubt I'll be able to return to you, to join you, so if there is an afterlife... remember me, okay?" "I guess this is good-bye, Trunks. I love you." With a soft reverence, 17 retrieved the torch and then leaned forward to light the pyre. Fire spread rapidly, fueled by accelerant. The android stepped back from the ravenous flames that claimed the physical remains of his lover, his tears only then illuminated by the light. As the body burned, 17 began to weave the strands of his lover's hair into the remaining lock of long hair he had. By the time Trunks' pyre was nothing more than ashes, 17 was finished with his thin braid. Staring down at the gray pile, he whispered, "I will always love you." In the distance, the sun peeked out over the horizon, spilling a beam of golden light onto the sandy shore and illuminating the small patch where the fire had raged. 17 turned away, heading towards the palace. *** He didn't much care for space travel. He was Lord Kakarrot, ruler of the entire Trans-Galactic Empire. The most feared being in the whole universe. No one frightened him. But space travel made him uneasy. It was... too confining, too unpredictable. During space travel, they always spent a long time between destinations, no matter how fast the ship went, and the emperor's ship was always the fastest. Nevertheless, it was a long time. Time that Lord Kakarrot often thought was long enough for anything to go wrong. He was paranoid like that. He didn't appear affected by his surroundings though. He lay upon his massive bed, the sheets shimmering in the low light of the room and the distant starlight as the ship sped through the vastness that was space. He hadn't gotten much sleep the night before, and he wasn't really tired. But he found it easier to lie down and daydream than to acknowledge that he was on some cursed ship with only a few plates of metal and energy between him and total vacuum. Closing his eyes, Lord Kakarrot thought about the grand chamber back home. Spacious and airy, filled with hundreds of lights and colors, decorated by streamers and banners, with a low table in the very back reserved for wedding presents that were more like a tax than anyone would admit to. In his mind, he could picture how it would feel to be standing there at his throne, his two sons standing at full attention in their respected spaces, dressed in their dress uniforms, and they'd be looking down at the crowd before them. And down the isle, coming towards him, dressed in the softest of sheer cloth, his lovely bride would walk to him willingly, smiling, finally caught and her wings happily clipped. Her smile would always be the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Those saucy ruby lips, the perfect pearly teeth. He was certain she only smiled that smile for him. And she, of course, would look absolutely edible in the nearly nothing of her gown. The most stunning beauty upon which anyone would be blessed to lay their eyes. And soon, she would be all his. She would belong to him and him alone. She was -his- bride. And then she would bow at the foot of the stairs to the raised dais, and it would be up to him to allow her to approach with a beckoning of his hand. She would rise, graceful as ever, and climb the stairs to stand beside him. Beside him, where she would belong. Forever. At least this marriage wouldn't be as wretched as his last. Did marriage always have to be such a pain? '_Not this time,_' he thought. '_The right person. It only takes the right person. Or a sane one._' Of course, after the ceremony, there would be feasting and drinking and other party activities. But those wouldn't last long, because as soon as he had eaten his fill, he'd want to take her away from such revelry. He'd take her to their room, a room that no one would ever enter except them, and he'd remove that filmy dress, tossing it aside. And she would stand there before him, completely nude, her smooth alabaster skin a stark contrast to his rough tanned hands. Just thinking of how she would look, how she would feel under him, the royal saiyajin moaned. He wanted her right then, right there. But she wasn't there. He'd take his pleasure from her, again and again, enjoying the celebratory time of the 'honeymoon', as humans called it. For a moment, the emperor thought about that. Honey Moon. He knew full well what happened when he saw the light of a full moon, and how he and his kind would transform into large ape-like creatures. But he also knew what honey was like, and it was anything but bad. Sweet and sticky, it had the potential to be very sensual. Lord Kakarrot grinned. '_Yes. Animalistic and sensual all at the same time. It will be glorious._' Although he would have been more than happy to focus in on the sexual pleasures with which Bulma would continue to provide him, a different image flashed in his mind. Something recent. Not a daydream. A memory. Clearly in his mind, he saw his younger son pressed hard between a mostly-hidden alcove wall and the tall Demon Lord, pleading for a bed. A small self-satisfactory smirk came to his lips. Well, he'd be downright ignorant if he didn't -know- his son meant a bed for sex. Perhaps it was a little strange, his pride at Goten bedding Piccolo. Then again... maybe it was Piccolo who was bedding his son. He wondered at how that worked for a moment. Did they take turns or what? On the other hand, with the way Goten's legs were wrapped around Piccolo's waist, it seemed entirely likely that Goten was more the receiver than the giver. Lord Kakarrot half-wished he'd asked when he'd spoken with Goten earlier that morning just before take-off. "And here I was, thinking you would avoid me all morning," Lord Kakarrot smirked at his younger son as Goten entered the observation room where he had been waiting alone. It was almost time to leave. "You know, your brother couldn't even be bothered to come down here. No idea what he's doing. Can't even see me off. But not you. Here you are. Always have been a brave one." "I see no reason to avoid you, father," Goten replied, his voice level and emotionless. He was dressed in his customary uniform, sans the normal scouter. Ever since he had learned how to detect chi without it, he rather felt it was somewhat silly to wear one. Besides, Piccolo preferred it gone, and that alone was reason enough to lose it. "Is there one?" The elder male grinned as he turned from watching his son, to pretending to look out the window to the scurrying of the crew. He watched out of the corner of his eyes as Goten took a stand beside him, also watching the comings and goings below. Bringing his voice down to the barest of whispers, the monarch said, "I know you know what I saw last night." "It's none of your concern," grounded out the youth. He knew that this was a topic his father wasn't going to let go of. Not after all those years of him harping on the matter. He just wished his father could hold off discussing it until -after- he returned from his bride-finding hunt. It was his life; why couldn't he be allowed to live it as he saw fit? "Oh, but it is," his father stated. He turned his head to look at the smaller male, trying to judge Goten's demeanor. "Did you honestly think I wouldn't find out?" "You -wouldn't- have found out had your bride not run away and had you not gone out specifically looking for trouble," the prince remarked dryly. Lord Kakarrot fought down the impulse to backhand his son for his impudent comment; he had the foresight of knowing he should not antagonize Goten if he was to convince him of his proposal. Instead, he let out a harsh laugh voicing his displeasure. "Touché, my son. But keeping it a secret... That was smart. I'll give you that much. Smart to hide it from everyone. Remaining as Goten the Terrible. Keeping up the proper family image. Very smart, I'll agree. But you can drop the pretenses with me. I -know-, after all." Goten had nothing to say to that. "How long has it been going on, hmm?" inquired the emperor. "Weeks? Months? Perhaps since the tournament?" He nearly missed the blush on his son's features, as it disappeared almost the moment it appeared. Nearly, but not quite. He'd been looking for some sort of telltale sign, and that was about as over-the-top a reaction as he had ever gotten out of his youngest son, other than anger. Well, not really anger, more like rage. "Before that then? No wonder you found your brother's actions with the Demon Lord so completely deplorable. You -were- jealous. Weren't you... Jealous that he could do in public what you could not." "I don't know what you're talking about." "Of course you don't." Lord Kakarrot smirked at Goten's small attempt at covering himself, though he knew it was pointless to deny it now. The royal saiyajin's tail flicked behind him slightly, as if silently laughing at the boy, but remained otherwise curled behind him. "But did it never occur to you that I might look favorably on the match?" Goten nearly fell out of his skin at that. With wide eyes, he turned his attention from staring out the glass to the floor below to stare blankly at his father. Blinking a few times, his face flushing ever so slightly, he asked incredulously, "... Excuse me?" Lord Kakarrot's grin was as merciless as the man himself, more than a little thrilled to have surprised the Royal Inquisitor so thoroughly. "You understand that this could turn out very well for my empire. Don't you?" "What -are- you talking about?" "Don't play coy with me, Goten," the monarch admonished. He turned to look back down at the preparations being made for his ship. Off-handedly, he continued, "You no longer have to give me any heirs, but that doesn't mean you can't still be useful in that area. Surely, you realize what I'm saying here. I mean for you to marry the Demon Lord." "-WHAT-?!" "Keep your voice down!" snapped the emperor insensitively. Goten tried to reason. He was so taken off-guard by his father's announcement, or rather command, that his mind didn't want to process anything. For one, he was thrilled with the idea of 'being forced' to marry Piccolo, while at the same time he thought it was all somewhat pointless to even speculate on the topic. "But, father, I can't marry him. He's a -man-." "I spent a good part of last night looking up any references to marriage between two men. And don't look at me like that," the elder man retorted, seeing Goten's eyebrows rise upwards in shock. He did not like the idea that his son thought him helpless in any area, even though research -was- an area at which he rather didn't excel. Still, he was no idiot. With a snort of defiance, the royal saiyajin continued, "I am perfectly capable of researching on my own. There are no laws or regulations regarding it. And I am emperor. Don't you think I would abolish that rule, were there one, if it stood in the way of something I wanted?" "I suppose so," Goten replied slowly, coming to grips with his emotions and thoughts. As he slowly took control over his breathing, and the rapid pulse of his hammering heart slowed down, he also managed to come to grips with his expressions and mannerisms. Uncrossing his arms, he placed clasped his hands behind his back again. "So, then you agree," Lord Kakarrot said rather than asked. To him, it wasn't a matter if Goten did or not, what mattered was if he would fight logic. Then again, this was Goten, the most logical of them all. "No." "What?" the emperor exclaimed, more than a bit taken aback. '_Well, there goes the idea that he's the most logical of us. I should have known better than to assume anything is a constant in this universe._' Why not?" A lie. He needed a lie. What could he say that his father might buy? Goten's mind wheeled, and before he had sufficient time to weigh his answer, he found himself saying, "I have only been toying with him. To watch him. To make sure he would not challenge the empire in any way. He is, after all, stronger than Gohan. It would be unwise to allow him to go unguarded, though 17 does as well as could be expected. I do not know what you think is there, father, but I tell you that sex is a tool that I am using, and I doubt I am that adept at utilizing it. He would not marry me." "Oh, for the gods' sakes, Goten. Do you really think I'm that stupid? I can tell when someone is being played for a fool. And right now, that someone is me," Lord Kakarrot replied scornfully, his tail lashing angrily behind him and his arms crossing over his chest. He moved so that he was no longer facing the bay below, but looking directly at his youngest son. Tilting his head to the side, he continued, "I don't know what it is exactly that you're trying to pull, but it won't work. You've given yourself away. I am not the ignorant old man I know you'd like to believe that I am. Now, you -will- marry the Demon Lord." "Gohan will kill me," Goten stated after a moment, his voice soft and oh-so very reasonable. "You leave Gohan to me," the ruling saiyajin commanded. With an arrogant smirk, he turned his gaze back to the window, seeing his reflection more than what was occurring on the other side. He had built this; even though he didn't create the building itself, the empire that forged it was his alone. But not for long... "He still must give me grandchildren, whereas you are not so obligated. He will have no choice but to accept the marriage." "Why do you even want this?" Goten sighed, almost sounding a bit defeated. Almost. "Simple," he said. "Alliance. Loyalty. Solidarity. If you are matched to him, his people will undoubtedly become loyal subjects without question, and if they're even half as powerful as he is, then they would be great assets to my empire." Goten knew that, under normal circumstances, his father would be making a logical choice. Then again, Lord Kakarrot did -not- know that Piccolo and the two humans were from a parallel universe, nor did he know that the three guests would leaving for their universe the following day. But Goten knew that his father did not need to know such things and answered vaguely, "I will see." "You do that." The tall saiyajin moved towards the door that led to the lift down to the boarding area. Turning back just slightly, he glanced over his shoulder at his young son. "Do you love him? This... Piccolo. Do you?" Goten did nothing more than act as if he hadn't heard his father. "You do," smirked the older man. "You love him. I never thought I'd see the day. Good for you." Thinking back, Lord Kakarrot remembered that as one of the few rather fruitful conversations he had ever had with his younger son. Those kinds of conversations were so rare that he often was glad for them, as if they reminded him that his son was still a person, even if he did often act as cold as a machine. Like his androids. A small frown marred his features. 18... He had not had the chance to speak with her again before he departed on his search for Bulma. It was downright odd for her to not have reported back to him once her task was completed. But he supposed she could have still been 'performing her task', as it were. And he would not deny 18 her fun. She had been, for all intents and purposes, denied any such activities while guarding the small human. It was just as well that Lord Kakarrot allowed her some leeway in taking care of business for him. 18 was the android who had a zest for mayhem, after all. Unlike the cold and calculating 17, or the strangely powerful yet unfortunately peaceful 16. As Lord Kakarrot thought on his androids, he remembered the first time he had met the then trio. He had been passing through a small town, trying to cause as much havoc as possible. He had been in his late teens, and very strong. But not strong enough to prevent getting beaten down by them. They had appeared out of nowhere, deflecting his energy attacks and then mocking his anger at their defiance. He remembered swearing that they would pay for their insolence. He remembered telling them that he was a born conqueror. He remembered boasting that he would turn their empty skulls into chalices after he beat them. He remembered, to his chagrin, how easily they had defeated him that first time. 18 had taken special delight in causing him as much physical pain as mortally possible. Only a restraining hand from 17 prevented her from outright killing him. "18, don't," 17 had said, his voice flat and emotionless. He stared down at the broken and bloodied form of the nearly crushed saiyajin. His blue eyes were as lifeless as a doll's, though his sister held a bit more light to hers, as if there was a spark of life in her. "Why not?" 18 huffed, immediately backing down. "It's what we're designed to do." "Exactly," 17 replied, motioning for her, and for the silent 16, to follow him away. "And what happens, sister, after we've defeated him? After he's dead and our program is completed." "... I don't know." Even from where he was laying, the tailed warrior could hear the slight confusion in her otherwise cold voice. "There will be nothing left for us to do," 17 replied calmly. "And I think that would be rather boring, don't you? So, let's prolong this a bit. Let's have some fun before he dies. There will always be tomorrow to hunt him down and kill him. There's no real need to rush." "Heh. Yeah," 18 grinned. "In the meantime, we can do as we please. Yes. We're free people. We don't have to go back to them... We can do whatever we want, whenever we want to, and however we want to. We have the power. There's nothing and no one to stop us." "Too right, sister." 17 replied. And together, the all turned to look down at the broken saiyajin, not realizing how many times they would have to defeat him, leaving him almost dead but not quite. He had looked at each of their eyes. 16 had the most life-like eyes of them, sad and soulful, as if he knew some deep, dark, terrible secret that no one should ever have to find out. Lord Kakarrot wasn't sure if the androids had souls, but whatever that orange-haired monstrosity had kept hidden, he kept it unto death. Not that it mattered much, as they had all survived this long without knowing what 16 knew, so it probably wasn't life-or-death important. 17's eyes had always been lifeless, like a doll's eyes. Sometimes there would be sparks of life there, but those sparks could just as easily be something internal malfunctioning and being readjusted. Of the androids, Lord Kakarrot felt the closest with 18, though it was 17 he preferred at his side. In her blue eyes, there was an animal ferocity, a carnal need to feel and to use and to torment. He understood her. He admitted that she was beautiful, but she was one of those rare lovelies with whom he would never bring himself to try and sleep. She... unnerved him. He didn't trust her completely. He respected her power, and admired her enthusiasm sometimes, but he didn't trust her, as he did 17. Lost in his haze of dreams and memories, the Trans-Galactic emperor fell asleep. *** As some of the guests who arrived for his father's upcoming nuptials were also potential entrants into the tournament still six months away, Gohan took it upon himself to put them in their places by sparring with them. Or, more the point, beating them to within an inch of their lives. However, his leisurely activity was abruptly brought to halt as some no-name guard interrupted it. Scowling deeply, he barked, "What do you want?!" "I beg your pardon, Prince Gohan, for intruding, however, I bring news," apologized the guard. Lowering his voice to a nearly unintelligible quiet, he added, "Of a private nature." Nodding, Gohan followed the guard into a closed-off hall and shut the door behind him. "Now, what is it?" "I was sent to inform you that we've lost contact with the emperor's ship and have not been able to reestablish it," the guard stated quickly. "Is that -all-?" Gohan snorted. "You bothered me for -that-? The ship probably went into an asteroid field or something. I'm sure it's nothing." "Well, there weren't any asteroid fields near the vicinity of the last coordinates the ship..." "I don't care!" Gohan interrupted. Turning his back on the guard, he began to return to the sparring grounds. "Don't ever bother me with such trivial nonsense again. It's -nothing-." *** Lord Kakarrot stretched and yawned loudly once he'd awoken from his nap. '_Mmm. Such a nice sleep,_' he thought. '_I must've been more tired than I thought._' Heavy with sleep, he slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes to clear them and swinging his feet to the cold metal floor. "Time," he called out into the room. A computerized voice answered him, "8 o'clock in the evening, Palace Time." '_8 o'clock! I've been sleeping for over six hours! Some 'nap'. Hn._' Pulling himself up off of the bed, he smoothed out his golden clothing, giving his unruly hair the same treatment. "Well," he sighed aloud, "time to see if these morons have found my bride yet." He stepped out into the corridor outside of his room and calmly began walking towards the bridge. His sleep-addled mind did not allow him to notice he hadn't passed a single person on his way until he was nearly at the bridge itself. It was only then that he realized there were no other noises in the ship except the sound of his footsteps and the low hum of power from the ship's every-day functions. He'd traveled enough times space, despite his dislike for it, to know that there should have been more noise than simply that. Talking. Communication tones. Other footsteps. Even the ship's hum should've been louder. It was as if the ship had been brought to a full stop in the middle of space and everyone was hiding from him. '_Well, if something -has- gone wrong, they'd damn well -better- hide!_' Moving over to a communications panel on the wall, he punched up the escape pod inventory, balking at how loud the emitted beeps were. The screen showed that all pods were present and accounted for, causing the emperor to nod a little. He hadn't really expected any to be missing, but he felt it was better to know for certain than have a little, bothersome doubt lingering in the back of his mind before he found his curiously absent crew. Instead of trusting the communications panel to tell him the whereabouts of each member of his crew, he decided to have a look for himself. Besides, what does a machine -really- know, anyway? Dining hall: empty. Engine room: empty. Medical lab: empty. Crew quarters: empty. '_Where the hell -are- they?!_' The emptiness of his ship confounded him. Finally, he concluded his search at the bridge: his original intended destination and the last place he hadn't checked. The doors slid open smoothly before him, revealing the control center of the ship. "This is insane," Lord Kakarrot mumbled aloud as he gazed around the completely empty bridge. For the first time, he realized that there wasn't the usual smell of confined bodies. Granted, the air recyclers kept any overly powerful smells out of the air, but there should have been the smell of people. There wasn't anything but a stale blankness to the air quality. "Isn't it, though?" a disembodied voice said. The emperor's head whipped around, his eyes seeking the source of the voice. He knew the ship was kept at a constant temperature, but there were suddenly cold, icy prickles along his skin, and the fur on his curved tail was suddenly puffed out. "Who are you? Where are you? Where is my crew?" "You tell me," the voice replied. "Haven't you searched the ship over for your companions?" Turning around so that he could make sure he was alone on the bridge, Lord Kakarrot stated slowly, softly, "They're not here." "Really. How astonishing that you figured that out," the voice replied, and there was a definite edge of contempt to it. "Yes. They're gone." "Well, where -are- they?" the emperor demanded testily, sounding a great deal like a spoilt child, crossing his arms across his chest even as his tail flicked behind him angrily. "Floating out in that vacuum between Earth and here, I'd imagine. Of course, they've probably disintegrated beyond recognition by now." "Who are you...?" the tailed monarch asked curiously, still trying to locate that voice. He stood in the center of the bridge, close to the command chair, but not quite within reaching distance of it. "You know who I am." The voice sounded less disembodied then, as if the owner of the voice was suddenly on the bridge with Lord Kakarrot. "Or at least, you think you do." At that moment, the bridge overhead lights and the lights on every console went dead, absolute darkness consuming the entire room. The monarch felt a rush of air move swiftly past him, causing him to jump a bit. Blindness truly was a detriment to him; he felt slightly dizzy and disoriented, almost unable to keep his footing. '_The gravity must be off. Or at least, must be reduced._' "How does it feel to be trapped, Kakarrot?" the voice hissed into his ear. Taking a swipe at the direction of the voice, which had happened to be literally within an inch of his head, the saiyajin's fist came into contact with nothing but his own hair. But then on the opposite end of the bridge, the voice came again. "How does it feel to be caged with nowhere to go, and no one to help you?" "Who -ARE- you?!" screamed the royal. "You've already asked that question. Can't you be a bit more original?" the voice queried almost thoughtfully. The tailed saiyajin screamed in outright anger as something blazingly hot cut the back of his shins, severing muscle and tendons. "And by the way, you should know who I am by now, idiot." "Shut up!" Lord Kakarrot cried out, tears of pain threatening to spill forth. He struggled to stand up, but found to his alarm that simply pushing upwards allowed him to float for a few minutes but not to stand. The gravity truly had been adjusted. Even as he thought that he might be able to chance throwing a counter attack, the gravity in the room suddenly increased tenfold, forcing the royal back to the ground and on his knees. As he landed, he was still trying to find his attacker in the dark but with no success. The fact that he didn't know who or what was attacking him was far more unnerving than the fact that he was actually in pain and losing. His own heartbeat was pounding in his ears, deafening him. He couldn't see. He couldn't hear. And the only smell that he could detect was his own blood... and his own fear. "Are you scared?" And there was a curiosity to that voice, a familiar quality. But to the fallen emperor, it sounded like mockery. Shouting in defiance, Lord Kakarrot declared with royal pride, "Never!" "Liar, liar. Pants on fire," came the laughing response just before a blinding flash of chi illuminated the world around the saiyajin. Lord Kakarrot screamed in pain as his tail was severed from his body. Sucking in air through clenched teeth, the saiyajin tried to get past the pain. And the humiliation. He knew that he wasn't the first of his kind to suffer through such an indignity, but it hurt, and though Lord Kakarrot enjoyed inflicting pain, he most certainly did -not- enjoy receiving it. He was the strongest fighter in the universe! But his opponent had the audacity to try and cheat against him! Even though, had the tables been reversed, he'd have done the same thing; Lord Kakarrot was more than enraged. "Go to hell." "Isn't this it?" came the melancholy answer. And then there was even more pain lacerating the saiyajin's body, piercing his unarmored skin like rice-paper, attacks from every direction. "Why are you doing this?!" the emperor shouted, trying to draw enough strength to become a super-saiyajin. But, to his dismay, he discovered that he couldn't concentrate enough, nor could he find the necessary power within him to do so. His mind was too centralized on the agony at the small of his back, and at the many cuts and gashes in his skin, and the bruised muscles, and the broken bones. Pain. Pain was a big distraction. "Ooooh. A new question. I'm surprised. I didn't think you had it in you." The soft laughter that accompanied the mocking words was worse than cold steel on raw nerves for the saiyajin royal. "I don't know who you think you are, but I'm not stupid!" The monarch continued to rage. He managed to push off the ground, onto his hands and knees, and then tried to push up so that he was standing. But there was too much damage done to his tendons and ligaments, and there wasn't anything to support him in his venture. His body fell to the ground hard, aided by the increase in gravity. Again, the tailless liege screamed in pain. "Aw. Did the little monkey king fall down and hurt himself?" the captor chuckled mirthlessly. "Don't worry, scum. You won't have to suffer through this pain much longer. Neither of us will." "What is the meaning of this?!" Then Lord Kakarrot registered the last bit of what his disembodied tormenter said and cried out, "What do you mean?" "What? Did you not hear me? Or is your small mind unable to comprehend what I just said? You disgust me, you filthy mongrel." The outright scorn, the obvious venom was like a bitch-slap to the monarch, something that would not, under any circumstances, be tolerated. "You have been a pestilence on this universe. That little girl Frieza made a mistake in not obliterating you long ago. And I plan to remedy that." The saiyajin monarch was so enraged by that insult, he couldn't form a coherent retort, so he simply screamed back, throwing a chi weak chi blast into the darkness, praying that it wouldn't penetrate the hull. Fortunately, it didn't get do more than singe the first layer of metal. Unfortunately, it didn't do any good, either. "If you were actually worth pity -- which you are -not-, in case you were wondering -- I might almost pity you," the voice mused. The royal saiyajin heard no footsteps despite the voice moving about the room. "Your bride ran away because she couldn't stand to be married to you..." Lord Kakarrot blinked in the darkness, verbally slapped again. His eyes narrowed into slits as he turned his head from side to side, denying the allegation. "She loves me!" "Oh, please. Spare me your self-delusion," that curiously flat voice ordered, and the command was reinforced with a roundhouse kick that hit the burnt nub that was once a tail. "And she's the second to leave you, isn't she? Your first wife was murdered. Lucky girl." The shattering scream of anguished pain echoed down the halls of the ship, even though the doors were closed. For a moment, the ruler thought he passed out, but the darkness in his eyes did nothing to block out the world of agony in which he presided. Gritting his teeth, he tried to challenge his attacker's preconceived notions. "I avenged her death." "So deluded. No. You got revenge for yourself." And for the first time, there was a reprieve from the attack, allowing Lord Kakarrot to regain his breath, even as the attacker remained invisible to all his senses. There was only that voice, haunting the darkness with its own vicious abuse. "Guldo almost had it right though. Destroying your empire by destroying your womb for potential heirs. And neither of your sons will ever produce a single heir. Leading your empire to its end. Your precious, beloved empire. All gone." "My empire! What have you done?" the monarch cried out from where he was trying to regain his footing. A booted foot met with the royal's chin, knocking him backwards a bit. There was a snort of disgust and a light tapping before there was only that voice again, mocking him in its softness. "Nothing yet, really. But it will never flourish again. It will crumble. Fall. And be forgotten." "My empire is the greatest that ever has been. That ever -will- be!" Lord Kakarrot exclaimed heatedly, seeing at least some light, though it was the kind of light that didn't illuminate anything tangible. It was all in his head, behind his eyelids. "No. It isn't. And no, it won't. Prince Gohan is a moron," that mocking voice spat out, as if disgusted just mentioning the Golden Heir's name. "Powerful, true, but ignorant, blind. He will never be able to continue your line. He'll see your empire in ruins within a year." "My son is strong..." the father tried to proclaim, but the statement was weak, and he trailed off as he tried to regain his orientation after another kick left a ringing in his ears. The ship seemed to be spinning around him in a crazy manner as he sat up off the ground. If only he could see his attacker, or get some kind of reading on him, the emperor knew he'd be able to fight back! "But stupid. Much like his father. Now, Prince Goten, on the other hand, has the brains to make the empire what you want it to be." And there was curious pride, or at least appreciation. Then there was a sharp laugh as the attacker continued on, "But he won't." Lord Kakarrot grunted with the kick that knocked him a good foot off the ground as it connected with his ribs. When he managed to get some air back into him, he coughed, "Goten is loyal..." "Yes. Very loyal. But he's found peace." There was a moment of silence before the strange attacker went on in an almost thoughtful tone. "He would break your empire apart." "He would never!" the saiyajin monarch declared, assured of his own son's loyalty from just that morning, when he had ordered the boy to marry. Had it been only that morning? "Oh, but he would. And your empire would be no more," came the cold reply. And then there was a slight glint of red in the darkness, which was gone just as quickly as it was there. "I am here to make that a reality." "I am the great Lord Kakarrot! Supreme ruler of the Trans-Galactic Empire! I will have your -head- for this!" the bloodied monarch cried out desperately. He was cold. He was in pain. He was losing a lot of blood. He was losing, period. This was ALL very -UNACCEPTABLE-! "You've already stolen my -life-," growled the captor. There was a disturbance in the airflow just above where the monarch lay sprawled, but the saiyajin found his limbs too heavy to try and fight back. "What is my -head- worth added to that?" "Your life? Are you a ghost?" There was a ringing in his ears, a dangerous tone... familiar. What was it? It sounded like the self-destruct siren, but that couldn't be. It took someone of high rank to turn on the self-destruct system on. High-ranking people were people he trusted and were far from suicidal. "No, Kakarrot," the voice replied heavily, yet amazingly softly, as if he were telling some crying child that everything would be all right, that the light would return to chase away the monsters. "My life was stolen twice by you. Once, they created me to defeat you." For the saiyajin monarch, realization finally dawned, just as a sharp, hot, piercing pain raced through him, stabbing him in his chest. "17..." "And the second time was when you ordered my own sister to murder Trunks," came the whispered confirmation. "He was nothing!" Lord Kakrrot tried to reason, tried to explain, trying to save himself. Something liquid spilt down Lord Kakarrot's cheeks, but it didn't have the sticky thickness of blood, nor the smell. With his words, blood began to pool in his mouth, and he was having trouble breathing. '_A lung must be punctured._' "He is -everything-." Came the soft rebuttal. The stabbing weapon was yanked from the saiyajin's chest and there was a noticed departure of his assailant. The pulling of the weapon helped the bulky ruler to struggle up to his knees, but it cost him. Suddenly, the lights of the bridge came back on, blinding Lord Kakarrot once again. He knelt on the metal floor in a growing pool of his own blood. When he was finally able to focus his eyes again, the dark orbs settled on the lithe form of 17 crouched on the back of the captain's chair, one arm bloodied up to the elbow, even as the other remained almost clean. Almost. "17," he gurgled. How? How could 17 have betrayed him? "Kakarrot." The raven-haired android leapt from the chair to land just in front of the saiyajin's upturned face. Leaning down, 17's nose less than an inch away from the other male's, he stared coldly at the emperor. The android swept a piece of bloodied bangs out of Lord Kakarrot's eyes, tucking the hair neatly behind one ear. "I think we're done here." Reaching across his chest, 17 carefully activated the bomb still hidden within him. It was set to go off exactly at the same time that the ship's self destruct did. Then, gently, he cradled the other man's face in his hands, leaning their foreheads against each other. The android's mind drifted for a moment. He wished that he'd said good-bye. That he'd saved Trunks. That he'd killed the saiyajin when he'd first had the chance. So many wishes... Keeping his eyes locked onto Lord Kakarrot's, 17 whispered calmly, "Don't close your eyes. You won't want to miss this."   



	24. Parting Gifts

_Disclaimer- Summer and I, Deani, have no legal rights to DBZ. As we've stated in every other friggin' chapter. Thpppt. This is a very special chapter to us, me in particular. "Good-bye to you..." Yeah. Damn._

_Warnings- Yaoi. A lovely boy doing some seriously lovely things with another lovely boy. AKA lemony goodness. And I do mean lemon. Just one big ol' ball of citrus. Um... I'm sure there's other stuff... Oh, yeah. Bit of fluff. A little ha-ha, hee-hee. Sap to taste. Dash of angst. Might want to consider a handkerchief for any stray tears. Oh, and if you're not particularly partial to the P/Gt pairing, you might want to just skim this chapter. And that's a real warning._ **Kingdom Come**  
~ Chapter 24 '_By the gods, Gohan! You need to go on a diet!_' Goten thought as he unceremoniously dumped his older brother onto his bed. Quickly, he exited the elder prince's bedroom, securely locking the door behind him. He wasn't too keen on the idea of someone repeating his father's performance from the night before. Especially -not- Gohan. As if this day hadn't been stressful enough as it stood. In hindsight, Goten supposed he could've just spent the entire day with the Demon Lord, as 17 had mysteriously gone missing and never returned to his post in the morning. Goten knew for a fact if he had gone ahead and guarded Piccolo himself, that -certainly- would've caught his brother's attention as well as garnered questioning; Gohan would've jumped at the chance to 'guard' the green guest, ousting Goten without a second thought. Instead, the young prince went the safer route by assigning a none-too-bright guard to stand in for the absent android. Goten wanted to keep Gohan as far away from Piccolo as possible, especially that night. He had deliberated all day on how to keep his brother fully occupied for the remainder of the night. An interruption would -not- be acceptable. His first thought had been to try and find someone who would make a suitable bed partner for his brother, but that idea was easily discarded. Gohan had stated that there was only one person he wanted in his bed, and no one else would do. No one else left him satisfied. With as well as Goten knew his brother, it was easy to judge that the idea of bedding someone he didn't want in the first place would simply irritate him first, and then leave him restless and grouchy afterwards. So, the next idea that Goten had, drugging his older brother, was by far the better. No room for error. It had been incredibly simple to slip his brother a small dose of a rather potent sleeping drug. It had a tart flavor, so Goten simply put it in one of the naturally citrus pastries. Faster than Goten could have believed, his older brother was sound asleep, snoring into his still full plate. The curfew bell had already rung, so that left Goten alone for the most part. There were still people preparing the palace for the expected wedding. They were just awaiting word from Lord Kakarrot of a successful hunt, and then the wedding celebration would truly begin. Standing outside of his brother's door still, Goten took a deep breath. This was it. This was the night he had been dreading. The last night he'd be able to spend with Piccolo. His tail uncurled from its position around his waist to dip behind him, sweeping the ground as the youngest prince began to walk. His path was aimless. He had time to kill before he was supposed to meet with the Demon Lord, and he planned on using that time to quell the trembling he felt just under his skin. He shivered once, though it wasn't from cold. His mind wandered a different path than his feet, thinking back onto all the nights he had shared with the Demon Lord, who was by far more affectionate in private than his title might suggest. Goten gulped past a small lump forming in his throat. This night had to be perfect, though how it could be more perfect than any of their previous ones was beyond him. No one passed him as he walked the halls, his course erratic at best. For the few that saw him, they simply thought he was on some sort of patrol, checking against curfew breakers, or hunting someone or something. Those that noticed him made sure to warn others of where the Dark Prince was, making sure that no one would disturb him. Carelessly, Goten allowed his feet to take him where they willed, allowing his subconscious to dictate his destination. He was mildly surprised when he found himself walking through a familiar archway and into a large garden. He stilled, taking his time as he looked around. Even in this bleak season, the small alcove of exotic plants was flourishing with life. The young prince took a few more steps inside and turned to look at the archway. He remembered his first confrontation with the Demon Lord. He remembered how the archway was created. His tail gave a swift flick as Goten turned back. Barely visible through the thick foliage, the far wall stood still. He remembered how it felt, to have the wall at his back and the utter confusion and fear racing through his system. He sometimes still felt like that, as if he was backed into a corner, and the only things in life that were real were confusion and fear... and Piccolo. "Strange, isn't it? That even though it's winter outside, and a time of death and decay, life still blooms here," a deep voice interrupted the prince's reveries, but it was a voice that Goten welcomed. Turning, the demi-saiyajin smiled brightly, his tail curling upwards in greeting. Piccolo took notice of the slight change in body language. Looking only at the young prince, the Demon Lord said, "Strange, and utterly beautiful." Goten flushed, still astounded that he had caught the powerful warrior's attention. "I... So, what are you doing here? We weren't supposed to meet for a little while longer. How did you get rid of Gamma so quickly?" "He's not very bright," Piccolo commented as he rolled his shoulders slightly. He had forgone his cape and turban for this night. They weren't needed and would just get in the way. Still, whenever he did go without that customary weight, he felt slightly off. "None of them are," Goten replied. He kept his eyes on the green male, as if he thought that with a single blink, Piccolo would disappear. "So I gathered," Piccolo chuckled, amused that Goten was studying him. They had all night, after all. Grinning, Goten shook himself out of the daze into which he had lulled himself. Tilting his head to the side, he asked in amusement, "What did you do?" Angling his face so that the light around them cast his features in wicked shadows, the taller male leaned down and whispered conspiratorially, "I killed him." "You did not," Goten laughed, not the least bit alarmed. If it had been anyone else at the palace, he might have believed him or her, but it wasn't. This was Piccolo, and Piccolo didn't kill. Or at least, he hadn't killed anything for as long as he'd been at the palace. "All right, so I just knocked him out while he wasn't looking and doused him with alcohol. He'll wake up with a bad headache and smelling like a drunk," Piccolo smiled as he leaned back, allowing the dim light to illuminate his features completely again. "Smart," Goten beamed, a slight blush staining his cheeks as he felt his tail dancing behind him, undulating merrily at the taller warrior, as if asking to play. Or as if asking to be petted. Goten looked over his shoulder at his traitorous tail, silently commanding it to behave itself. It only waved when he was really flustered, or when he was around his strong lover. Of course, all things considered, the two events usually coincided. Piccolo grinned at the reaction he induced, pleased that he could still illicit it even after all this time. The tall male moved forward, walking just past the demi-saiyajin, and then stopping. Turning only his head, he asked, "Are you coming or not?" "Right behind you." Goten followed him through the foliage to the back wall. No sooner had the youth stepped into the clearing near the wall than had he been grabbed and slammed up against it. Only this time, there was no menacing drive behind Piccolo's actions. But there was still most definitely the full body contact. "Remember this?" Piccolo asked, his voice deep yet soft, whispered right over Goten's head. It was a familiar stance, one that he replayed over and over in his head. He had lost his temper a bit, and had wondered, before events tumbled into his favor, what he could have done differently. He didn't understand how Goten could have gotten under his skin so easily then, but now he had an idea. He sometimes still felt a little bit out of control when he was around the prince. Case in point, he was very close to simply slanting his lips across the demi-saiyajin's and saying 'to hell with talking,' but there was that one stubborn part of him that was still screaming reason at him. There were times he really wished he could shut those nagging voices up. "First meeting," Goten replied, and he was very proud of how clear and strong his voice sounded, even though he could taste his heart beating in his throat. He leaned his head back against the wall, unconsciously offering up his throat as he inhaled deeply of Piccolo's scent mixed with the other aromas of the garden. Just thinking of that first meeting had Goten's cheeks tinting. It was the first time he had really realized that he wanted someone. Wanted to impress them, to earn their approval. Granted, he had wanted his family's approval for most of his life, but that was something else. This was... just something altogether different. "Mmm. I got the distinct feeling you wanted me even then," Piccolo remarked, his voice dipping to that low octave that had Goten's tail puffed in anticipation and his spine pricked with small goose-bumps. He nuzzled the prince's neck before catching a waiting earlobe between sharp fangs. He was rewarded with Goten's little gasp of pleasure and his shiver, even though the youth was pressed tightly between the wall and Piccolo's body. To the Demon Lord, the reaction was delicious. "I did." Goten smiled, delighting in the sensation. When he felt Piccolo release his ear, he turned his head to the side, and managed to delicately capture one of the Demon Lord's antennae with his mouth, letting the appendage scrape through his teeth as the larger warrior pulled away. When the young prince was able to see Piccolo's eyes, the earlier shivering turned into a full-fledged trembling. There was a spark in those eyes, something dangerous and desired, akin to lust but completely different. Suddenly, Piccolo dipped forward, pressing his closed lips against the softer ones of the demi-saiyajin. With an ease born from much practice, the Demon Lord gently parted his lips to allow his tongue to flick out across the seam of Goten's still closed mouth. The prince gratefully accepted the kiss, narrowing his eyes and tilting his head to the side as he parted his mouth with a slight moan. Piccolo pulled back sharply, a small smirk on his face. "No, wait. This was later." "Huh?" Goten asked as he felt the larger male release him. It took him a moment, as it always did, to get all of his faculties in order after even that brief taste of his lover. He looked up as the green warrior motioned for him, and he soon found himself following Piccolo on a meandering path through the foliage to another slight clearing. At first, he didn't recognize the site or why it was important. Then he saw the tree. Goten turned around to look at the Demon Lord, thinking that Piccolo was standing beside him. The youngest prince quickly found that Piccolo was actually behind him, causing the youth to turn a full one hundred and eighty degrees. The discovery startled him because he hadn't realized the other male was standing so very close to him. Goten quickly backed up, ending right back against the tree as he had several months earlier. Piccolo moved forward just as soon as there was even the slightest space between them, managing to pin the prince to the tree in a repeat performance. "Much better." Piccolo leaned in against Goten but didn't kiss him, just kept the intense closeness. "Oh, I definitely remember this," Goten breathed. He closed his eyes, savoring the weight pressed up against him. He rather thought, standing there that not only could he feel Piccolo's chi, his power, that he could also almost taste his mere presence. It filled his mouth and made him hungry for something a bit more substantial. "You kissed me. Really kissed me." "And you liked that," the taller male murmured, even as he could feel the prince's affirmation growing between them. It caused a mirrored reaction in him, just knowing that Goten was turned on by him. He had felt somewhat aroused that first time, during that first argument in this garden, feeling how the prince reacted to him. It hadn't been a driving need as it was now. But it had been there, and he easily suppressed it, something he had always been able to do. He grinned as he acknowledged that, lately, he had done anything but suppress his wants and needs. "More than liked," giggled the demi-saiyajin. He tilted his head to the side, openly inviting another kiss, even as his tail wrapped around Piccolo's middle, pulling the larger man impossibly closer. "I... I'd wanted that for so long." "I know," Piccolo whispered as he bent forward. With deliberate gentleness, he brushed his lips across Goten's again, asking permission even as he foretold of another kiss. With a strange sense of déjà vu, Goten thought that he was going to melt, right there. The temperature in the area seemed to have jumped up several degrees. His knees were threatening to give way as he parted his lips, allowing the kiss to deepen. Even though they both knew that if Piccolo was determined, he could easily force the issue, they also both knew that Piccolo would NEVER do such a thing. In that respect, the fact that Piccolo asked caused Goten to want it even more. With a soft moan, Goten leaned further into the kiss, trying to give and get as much as he could, his own tongue playing against his lover's while tasting as much as he could. Without warning, Goten found himself spun around and facing the tree, the exact same position he'd been in all those months before. The familiar heat -- heightened somewhat by the knowledge of what Piccolo was actually capable of doing, of having the much larger and much stronger warrior pressed up against his backside -- had Goten's breathing speeding up and the world spinning slightly. Actually, he loved this position. He rocked back with a soft groan, feeling the hard press of Piccolo's desire through the thin fabric of both of their clothes, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head from rapture and excitement. His fingers even found their same grip, though it had overgrown some, and his fingers no longer fit the old mold. In the back of his head, he realized that while time may have healed the scars left on the tree from that meeting, no amount of time would ever erase the memory completely. In a part of his mind even further back, Goten knew that, like his hands in the overgrown grip, he would never fit into the role he had carved for himself prior to his first meeting with Piccolo, and he would never be able to erase who he had become. "Tell me something, Goten," Piccolo rasped into the prince's ear. With the younger male pressed up tightly between him and the tree, the green warrior allowed his hands to skim along the demi-saiyajin's sides. He bent forward ever so slightly, using only his fangs to nip along his neck. "When did you know? When did you realize you..." "When what? When did I realize what?" Goten panted, his tail sliding between their bodies so that it could wrap around Piccolo's upper thigh. He wanted to move like his body was begging to do, but he was quite immobile, only able to grip the tree in front of him. He felt completely safe there, confined as he was, even though he usually tended to avoid situations that left him unable to move as he pleased. This was Piccolo, and that was what made it good. "When did you know you..." Piccolo paused, trying to gather his wits enough to ask a question that had been burning within him. He knew he was pushing things quickly, but it was their last possible night together. Tomorrow would see a return to duties back home, and a return to wanting someone that he could never have. Though it was a familiar pain, the intensity had increased. He suspected it was made worse because he knew that Goten loved him, wanted to be with him, and it was HIS fault that they couldn't be together. It was his dedication to his duties, his responsibilities that was going to get in the way of their happiness. And since this was their last night together, he knew he had to find out, "... Were in love with me? I know you said you wanted me from early on, but..." "That time when you took me to the infirmary. Do you remember that?" Goten asked, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes were closed in pleasure, lapping up the attention Piccolo devoted to him like a kitten with cream. "After you and Gohan had fought," Piccolo acknowledged. With a saucy smirk that went unnoticed, Piccolo slipped his hands inside of Goten's shirt, trying to touch as much flesh as he could without releasing his prize. "Yeah," Goten sighed. He let his head fall forward, his forehead against the smooth bark of the exotic tree. His body felt as if he had drank too much wine, or perhaps he had accidentally slipped himself a strange drug without realizing it. He gasped sharply as Piccolo's fingernails raked gently over the underside of one of his nipples. "And I had all that time to think in the rejuvenation chamber. That's when I knew." "That seems a lifetime ago," murmured the green man, finally admitting that he would have to release his lover if he wanted to strip him fully. He stepped back and removed the shirt, tossing the garment away quickly, and then returned with Goten still facing away from him. With his hands free and unrestricted, he continued his re-exploration of Goten's well-toned chest. "I know." Goten sighed into the caress, leaning back into the still clothed chest of his love. He almost wished that Piccolo had his cape on, if only for the way it felt against his bare skin when they were both wrapped up in it. He placed his hands over Piccolo's green ones, entangling their fingers together so that it was no real trick to simply bring them up, crossing his chest. He had to pause Piccolo's hands just long enough to ask, "When did you know?" "I knew for certain when you and 17 had made your 'arrangement'," Piccolo admitted. He wanted to continue simply holding the prince like this for a while longer, but time wasn't with them. He wanted to do so much... He just didn't have the opportunity. "Oh," Goten said, his eyes opening. That hadn't been all that long ago. He had fallen for someone who hadn't even wanted him? For a moment, he felt a note of panic, as if he had done something wrong. There was shame, and embarrassment, and disappointment, though he didn't understand the reason behind any of it. Piccolo continued on, qualifying his answer, "But I'd been feeling it for long before then." He had felt the younger male's disappointment, had easily heard it in his voice. There was no need for it, though it did mean something to know that he mattered so much to the younger fighter. "Oh," Goten grinned, understanding without having to be told. It had been confusing enough for him to sort it out, so he could easily see how Piccolo could feel something and not know what it was. Intending to turn around and fully embrace the green warrior against whom he stood, the youth grinned as he released the two green hands he still held, but as soon as he let go of Piccolo's hands, the other drifted backwards and out of reach. "Come here. There's one more place," Piccolo said, holding out his hand and nodding his head in indication of yet another destination. He grinned as Goten willingly took his hand, and together they walked through the garden. The small enclosure had a lot of memories for them. There was one more that the Demon Lord had to remember, had to share again, before he could ever possibly let go. "There is?" Goten took Piccolo's hand and followed him to the fountain hidden in the midst of the garden. There was a canopy of hanging vines dripping downward and then looping back up like streamers at a party. Golden leaves shimmered brightly in light produced by a foreign plant. The water gurgled forth merrily, as if it didn't mind who it entertained as long as there was someone there for whom to play. For a moment, Goten could only stare. Questions burned in his eyes as he watched Piccolo easily sit down on the ground. Given only the slightest invitation, Goten moved to sit across Piccolo's lap. Without thinking, he tucked Goten's head against his shoulder, kissing the younger man's forehead without even pausing to think on it. He ran his hand over Goten's side, from ribs to hips before retreating along the same path. Cupping the younger man's cheek, he leaned down and placed a feather light kiss on the prince's already parted lips. He felt the soft tail wrap around his back as the prince wrapped one arm around his waist while the other tugged at the back of his head. While he normally would have enjoyed the lightness of their play, and how it all seemed so unreal and dream-like, Goten wanted more. This was the last chance he would have to be with Piccolo, and he wanted to remember it. He wanted to feel it for months if possible. He deepened the shallow kiss, demanding more from his larger lover, putting every ounce of hunger and passion he could into the kiss. Using one hand, he grabbed at a Piccolo's hand as it traveled over his body and pushed it down his chest to between his legs, begging for him to understand. His head fell back, breaking the kiss as Piccolo cupped him through his pants. He bucked upward, whimpering, "Please." "Please, what?" Piccolo breathed as he leaned back against the edge of the fountain. He tightened his hold, smirking slightly at Goten's soft gasp and narrowed eyes. "Let's go to my room," Goten begged, sitting up and unconsciously spreading his legs a bit. "I want you... in my bedroom. Please?" Goten gasped from desire, and for a moment he couldn't form any words, much less the ones that threatened to choke him. He hated the fact that Piccolo was leaving, going away so that they'd never be together again, but it was still a fact. A fact like why he specifically wanted to spend his last night with Piccolo in -his- bed, not the Demon Lord's and not even in their garden. Goten wasn't stupid; he knew he couldn't hang onto the other male, couldn't keep him from leaving. But still, he could have something, even if it was as insignificant as Piccolo's scent hanging in his room and in his bed for as long as he could keep it there. He smiled sadly down at the lovely young man in his arms, releasing his prize, but not releasing the prince. He continued to sit there, running his hands over as much flesh as he could touch while Goten still had pants on. "All right," Piccolo agreed. "And... I want you to take me. In my bed. Hard," the prince added. Somewhat embarrassed by his wishes, Goten didn't really want to further detail what he meant by that and hoped Piccolo wouldn't press the issue. In truth, he wanted to feel Piccolo using him, to feel him inside himself the next day well after he'd returned home. Goten didn't want to be able to sit down from the physical memory of Piccolo being inside of him. And it all made him feel a little pathetic, knowing why he wanted these things. But he wouldn't say so. How could he possibly admit that he wasn't ready to let Piccolo go? He couldn't, so he'd settle for things that kept the other with him in spirit if not in person. "Is that what you want?" Piccolo asked using the tone of voice that he knew caused Goten to shiver, tilting his head to the side. "Yes." Goten nodded, though what he really wanted at that moment was for Piccolo to touch him again. "What about what I want?" Piccolo asked. Goten's already large eyes got wider as the room around him seemed to get darker. He found it suddenly difficult to breathe as he was laid backwards and felt Piccolo shifting to lean over him. The cool tiles of the garden's fountain area touched his back, causing him to arch up slightly. His head fell back to help keep his back from the coldness of the surface, which arched his neck beautifully to Piccolo's hungry lips. The young prince groaned as he felt sharp fangs and a heated tongue play over first one nipple and then its twin. So lost was he in the feel of Piccolo's mouth roaming over his skin that he didn't register quick hands at his waist, undoing the fastenings of his pants. The demi-saiyajin registered too late the loosening of cloth when he felt one of Piccolo's hands pressed between his hip and pants. With slow precision, Piccolo peeled off Goten's pants, pushing them down to his knees. It would have been difficult to get them lower without the prince taking off his boots. The Demon Lord leaned back, straddling Goten's shins. There was a dark flush of color across the prince's features, and a fine sheen of sweat over pale skin. There were also small, red marks here and there, and Piccolo knew that they were caused by his teeth and nails, and for some reason the fact that those were the only marks on the younger man gave him pause. He watched as the demi-saiyajin's chest rose and fell with his deep pants before he leaned down to place an open-mouthed kiss on the center of his sternum. Gently, Goten raised his hands until they rested on the back of Piccolo's head. His tail wrapped around Piccolo's wrist as he rested his hands on the demi-saiyajin's waist. The prince closed his eyes, wondering what was next. He gave a small smile as he felt Piccolo rise up only to lower again, kissing his skin again. It felt... good. Piccolo's kisses always did, but this time it felt better. He opened his eyes to look around the room, trying to remember the tropical atmosphere that would never be the same again. It would never be quite as exotic without Piccolo there. It would never be half as lovely. Suddenly, the young prince's sight disappeared in a blaze of pleasure as he felt an unexpected heat enveloping his hard sex. Piccolo slid his mouth halfway over Goten's erection, before he retreated back upwards. He had kissed almost every inch of flesh on Goten's body at some point in time already, but he had never done this. Goten had never let him try, as he had always wanted other things. But this time, Piccolo was going to do as he wanted. He smiled as he dipped his head forward again, taking him deeper into his mouth, trying not to laugh at the prince's startled exclamations and helpless writhing. He was going to miss this. Goten tried to remember how to breathe. He bit back the scream that was threatening to tear out of his throat, while trying to ride the pulses of electric euphoria that ripped through him. He bucked upwards, trying to embed himself deeper into Piccolo's mouth, feeling as if his body wasn't his to command, as if it was a slave to whatever Piccolo wanted. And he loved it. Reveled in it. Cherished it. He knew, or thought he knew in the part of his mind still capable of thinking, that even though Piccolo said this was what he wanted, it was more like this was a gift for him. Piccolo was always thinking of him, of his pleasure. Piccolo always managed to satisfy him, every time since their first. Since before their first time of actual sex... Piccolo was the first to ever cause him to reach orgasm, and it happened here, in this garden. Piccolo was the first person to really think of Goten's gratification first. The young prince cried out in harsh desire as the tight suction of Piccolo's mouth was almost too much for him to endure. He hissed in air, bucking his hips as much as he could with Piccolo restraining him, trying to reach that nirvana he knew was waiting for him. His eyes threatened to roll back in his head as his climax hit him. He let out a sharp cry, his head falling back as his chest arched upwards. He shook his head, denying that this could ever end. That this had to end. But eventually, as all things do, the moment was spent, and the young prince crashed back down to the tile floor, panting heavily. Piccolo grinned as Goten looked up at him, his brown eyes glassy and his expression warm and filled with love. There was something else there, something that Piccolo couldn't name, or didn't want to name. The Demon Lord slid back a bit to crouch on the balls of his feet. He helped the prince stand up before brushing still shaking fingers away to dress the younger man. The prince leaned forward, resting his hands on Piccolo's shoulder as the green warrior redid the fastener of his pants. Goten wasn't sure how he managed it, but he pushed off his lover and started to lead the way back to his room. He was rather proud of his ability to walk, which wasn't all that surprising to him. He was always happy to be able to walk after any amount of love play with Piccolo, but something like that... '_Wow. Wow, wow, wow, wow, wow._' He looked back and watched with hungry eyes as Piccolo gracefully stood up. He looked around and spotted his shirt, and he had to debate whether or not to reach down and get it. He finally decided that he'd have to retrieve it. He leaned up against a tree as he bent down to get it. When he straightened back up, he felt Piccolo at his back. Without thinking, he leaned back into the security of Piccolo's embrace. Piccolo sighed as he released his hold on the small prince, resigning himself to being unable to hold on forever. Like he'd want to. He stepped away, but found he couldn't let go completely. The two of them walked out of the small garden hand in hand, their fingers entwined between them discreetly, not daring to release their hold on each other. *** "I think you'll like it there," Yamcha nodded. The taller male was curled up on Vegeta's lower body with his arms wrapped tightly around the saiyajin's waist and his head cushioned by his chest. Vegeta's tail was wrapped just as closely around Yamcha as his arms were. He looked down at the human, so peaceful, so loving. How could he have ever been permitted to touch, to know such an exquisite being? "If you're there, I will." The human merely snickered. "What's so funny?" inquired the erstwhile prince. "It's just... You still always surprise me with the sweet and sappy stuff. That's all," he smiled. Vegeta raised an eyebrow to this. Was he mocking him? "Would you prefer I was rough and cruel?" Smirking up at the small saiyajin, Yamcha replied, "Oh, yeah, of course! Because rough and cruel is -always- sexier than sweet and beautiful." "I knew it!" Vegeta pretended to snap in an accusatory tone. "I -knew- you wanted it rough!" The human laughed wholeheartedly, nuzzling his face into the saiyajin's torso. Sighing deeply, he noted, "As long as it's you doing it to me." "Always," whispered Vegeta. "Yep," he concurred with a grin. "And starting tomorrow, it really will be 'always'. No guarding. No ridiculous overlord. No one and nothing to stand between us. I really do think you'll like it. The people are really nice there. And there's so much to enjoy. Ice cream! I will totally introduce you to ice cream. And cotton candy. And junk food. And... Mmm. Rice Krispie treats. You will -love- those. That sticky, mushy melted marshmallow stuff. Yum! Marshmallows! Those too. Camping trips. Rollercoasters. Movies. Baseball games." Yamcha's eyes glazed over, thinking about all of his favorite things in his world, a light smile playing across his lips. He hadn't realized until now just how much he truly missed all of it. "We can do anything we want. -Everything- we want. That's the kind of freedom we'll have. That's my home. Home sounds nice, doesn't it?" The saiyajin nodded his head, burying his face in Yamcha's soft, dark hair. Freedom. The ultimate dream. It all almost sounded too good to be true, except perhaps that cotton candy stuff. That didn't sound too good. Who ate cotton anyway? Leaning his head back against the wall, he answered. "If you're there, it will be." "Sap." "You like it." "I know." Leaning his head down, Vegeta placed a soft kiss to the top of Yamcha's head. "Are you going to sleep now?" "Thinking about it," yawned the human. The smaller male shrugged. "So sleep." "Okay. 'Night, Geta. I love you," he sighed before drifting off, further snuggling down. "And I love you." Vegeta's back rested against the headboard as he held Yamcha's sleeping form. This beautiful creature he held securely in his arms was not of this world, and soon, neither would he be. They were leaving. Together. And he could think of nothing more perfect. Perhaps Fate was not the cruel mistress he'd originally envisioned it to be. Sure, it had taken his home, taken his strength, taken his will, taken everything it -could- take, aside from his life. He had always believed that it kept him alive out of spite or malice, as its own personal whipping boy to abuse. All he knew from it was suffering. But that couldn't have been his destiny; if that were the case, Yamcha would've never loved him at all. Yet, Fate gave him Yamcha, whom he had learned to love and trust and who returned those sentiments, something he'd never imagined as possible. Maybe the scarred human was his reward for surviving. It certainly seemed that Fate was finally smiling down on him. How else would he be allowed to achieve happiness? *** As soon as the door hissed shut behind them, Piccolo spun the younger man to him and captured his mouth in a kiss that had Goten's toes curling inside of his boots. The prince shivered as he tasted himself on Piccolo's lips. He wrapped his arms around the green warriors neck, and curled his tail around Piccolo's wrist, dragging a hand down his back to cup his rear. There was the slight disorientation that he knew meant Piccolo was picking him up, so he wrapped his legs around his taller lover's waist. He felt sharp nails in his hair, tugging at his head. As he thought it would break the kiss, he was reluctant to shift, but in fact it only angled his head so that Piccolo had better access to his mouth. The young demi-saiyajin moaned in growing need as the carnal kiss claimed his sanity. Piccolo placed Goten on the edge of the bed before he managed to tear himself away from the smaller fighter. Panting heavily, the Demon Lord stepped back. He looked down at how Goten looked, sitting on the emerald covers and thought about how he would look wrapped up in the indigo sheets. Smirking slightly, Piccolo gave a single command. "Strip." Once the word registered, there was nothing else that mattered. Tugging frantically at his boots, Goten wasn't aware of Piccolo slipping into his bathroom. By the time the Demon Lord found the familiar bottle, Goten was throwing his socks away. Brown eyes looked up, making sure that Piccolo was still there, still wanting him, and found dark eyes watching his every move. With a half smile, he deliberately slowed his movements as he moved to his pants. He sat up on the edge of the bed, twisting his hips slightly as he peeled off the tight garment. And then Goten was completely nude, standing on his bed before falling to a crouch, his tail flicking behind him. "What about you?" With a devilish grin, Piccolo stalked towards the bed, causing the young prince to move backwards a step. He set the bottle of oil on the nightstand before reaching down and pulling his shirt over his head. Normally, he would have simply dismissed his clothes, but tonight he wanted to actually take the time to take them off, giving Goten his own strip show. He tossed the loose shirt carelessly away, and where it landed he had no clue. He had eyes only for Goten. Next came the turquoise sash. He kicked off his shoes, letting them smack against a wall. His grin magnified as he slowly slid out of his pants, watching as Goten's eyes darkened. The indigo garment fell to a puddle at his feet with the softest of sighs. Goten fell back onto his hands and then elbows as Piccolo climbed on the bed to lean over him. He wanted this. He wanted this more than he wanted to breathe. He fell back onto his back, his tail lashing at the shining covers, as Piccolo rested between his upraised knees. He closed his eyes, gasping into a kiss as he felt first one and then two green fingers enter his body, preparing him for what was to come. He raised his hands, clutching at Piccolo's shoulders even as his tail wrapped around Piccolo's wrist, begging for more of the teasing touch. Goten didn't know how, but it always seemed as if the Demon Lord knew precisely where to touch him, causing hungry sparks to dance just under his skin. He moaned as a third finger entered him, stretching him, and he couldn't help but encourage a faster tempo, bucking against the captured hand. He knew he was ready for this; he had been ready before he had even stepped into the garden. Piccolo smiled into the kiss, more than aroused at how the young prince writhed against him. Resting his full weight on the slight form under him, Piccolo reached down and grabbed the agitated tail, ruffling it against the grain just to hear Goten's soft whimper of approval. Piccolo broke the kiss, only to slant his mouth across the demi-saiyajin's lips again, before he began to tease at that one spot on the underside of the tail. The young prince, who was writhing and crying out his name in a tone that bespoke of begging, broke the kiss. For Piccolo, there was no aphrodisiac more potent than that. He removed his fingers from where they teased, bringing his hands up so that he could hold himself above the prince. He grimaced slightly as a furry tail wrapped around his aching sex, guiding him forward. Burying his face in the curve of Goten's shoulder and neck, he whispered, "I love you." For Goten, there were no words he could form to express what he was thinking or feeling as Piccolo entered fast and hot and hard. When Piccolo had removed his hands, finished with their task of preparing him, he had felt that familiar sting of emptiness. But, the feel of Piccolo filling him, more completely than ever before, left stars dancing in blind brown eyes. His nails dug into green skin, unintentionally scratching eight bloody lines. He bit his lower lip, arching his throat in pleasure even as his eyelids fluttered. When he was able to gather enough air to articulate anything, he had to search his very limited vocabulary, but he didn't get the chance as Piccolo began to move inside of him, his thrusts hard and fast, like the pulse pounding in his throat. Piccolo was braced off of the demi-saiyajin by both forearms, and he brought his knees up slightly, trying to get proper leverage. He knew he was right when he heard Goten crying out, pale knees clinging to him even as a brown tail wrapped around his waist. Slanting his lips over the softer, parted lips of the younger man, Piccolo poured all of himself into the most erotic kiss he had ever given, not holding back as much as he usually did. He increased his power so that he was just under the level of a super-saiyajin, strong enough that he wondered, ever so briefly, if it might be too much. But with the way Goten was moving against him, holding onto him, he knew that it didn't matter to the prince. And in all truth, it felt really good to him, too. There was a strange whimpering sound filling his ears, and it took Goten a moment to realize that he was making the sound. He shifted his grip so that he was kneading Piccolo's biceps, trying desperately to -not- reach down between their bodies to touch his renewed erection. He wanted to so badly that it hurt. The sheer strength behind Piccolo's thrusts, however, felt marvelous. He wondered how much his stronger lover had been holding back before then, and if he was still holding back. The ecstasy quickly stole his concerns away, though, driving everything but pleasure out of his realm of awareness. His soft whimpers turned to mewling as he tried to return Piccolo's kiss, only to find that he was sorely outmatched as the aggressive tongue mimicked the erotic dance that their bodies were performing. The kiss was broken only because they both needed to breathe. Piccolo was all too aware of how close Goten was to climax. And just before the demi-saiyajin crashed into that wave, the Demon Lord removed himself. Goten turned wild in his arms, fighting for the passionate play to continue, snarling in frustration when Piccolo refused by pulling further away. It was no trick at all to flip the prince over and position his hands on the edge of the headboard, though it did stretch his lithe body a bit. It would have been easier to simply require him to be on all fours, but Piccolo rather thought it would be better for Goten to have something to hold onto. He positioned his hands on Goten's hips, holding him tightly. The brown tail snapped once through the air, before it wrapped around to Piccolo's back, bringing him forward. He was aware of the fine trembling that rippled through the smaller male, and knew that it was because of him. He leaned forward, but did not enter him yet. Gently, teasingly, he placed butterfly kisses along Goten's shoulders before scraping his fangs over the back of Goten's bare neck. At the prince's light sob, he re-sheathed himself into the heated body of the demi-saiyajin. Goten knew that he wouldn't be able to stay in that position for too long. It was just too awkward for him, and it distracted him a bit, which was something he didn't want. His teeth were clenched, hissing in air as he felt Piccolo's rapid thrusts into him. It was on the borderline of pain and pleasure, but pleasure was swiftly winning. He tried to move back into each thrust, but the hands gripping him prevented it, only allowing him to receive the fierce and hard and strong strokes of his lover. In his hands, the headboard began to move forward, and if it had been against the wall, there would surely have been a hole. With a moan of surrender, the prince released the headboard and rested on his hands and knees, grimacing in utmost ecstasy as the change in position changed the angle and feel. He bowed his chest forward, towards the bed as he looked over his shoulder. The look on Piccolo's face was enough to cause a full body shiver in the demi-saiyajin. The prince cried out as he was driven to his elbows, wanting more. Wanting it all. Piccolo moved forward, wrapping an arm around the prince, pulling him back onto his lap. He continued to move, though, just toning down the enthusiasm he had given in to before. Using one hand, he began to stroke Goten's already leaking sex, knowing full well that it wouldn't take much to bring the prince to orgasm. Still, he wanted to prolong this one, though he wasn't planning on it being the last one of the night. He bit the outer edge of Goten's ear, making sure not to pierce the skin, licking the flesh he held between his teeth before releasing it. Panting harshly, he began to murmur into Goten's ear, whispering words that didn't make any sense, but that Piccolo just had to say. Goten grabbed at his lover's green forearms, pressing them tighter to him. Even in the tightest embrace, he never felt caged with Piccolo's arms around him. At that moment, he felt like he was going wild, but Piccolo's arms around him were keeping him safe. He had grown used to his father and brother laughing about their 'inner beast' and how it would hunger; he had always just assumed that it was lust. But with the feel of Piccolo's hard sex stroking him from the inside even as his hand rubbed his own arousal, he could feel something inside him, clawing at him, shredding him just under the skin, demanding to be free. With a shattered howl, he gave in to it. When the stars cleared from the demi-saiyajin's eyes, he found Piccolo had stilled, cradling his small form while still remaining inside him. It took him a moment to realize he was crying, sobbing as he leaned back against the Demon Lord. Piccolo was murmuring to him, brushing a hand through his hair, trying to soothe him. Taking a few deep breaths, the young prince managed to get himself under control. Shaking his head slightly, he gasped in a voice still thick with tears, "I'm fine. I'm fine. That was just... very intense. Please, gods, more." "Are you sure?" Piccolo asked, though it cost him. He was well past the point of no return, and if Goten told him to stop, it would be difficult. Not impossible, but very difficult. He was fighting himself at that very moment, wanting to thrust forward again. But the need to make sure that Goten was all right and that he was unhurt was a more dominant urge. "Yes. Yes. Very sure," Goten nodded, aware that tears were still falling, but he could still feel the aftershocks pulsing through his system, and he didn't want it to go away. Gasping softly, he shifted, trying to encourage Piccolo to continue. Piccolo moaned low, burying his head in the curve of the prince's neck, shivering as his antennae slid through sweat-soaked hair. He had to take a few deep breaths before he was able to move, not trusting himself not to hurt the young man he held tightly against him. He moved so that they were lying down on their sides before he began again, reaching down Goten's body to shift one of the prince's legs up towards the ceiling while the other rested against the covers. Goten couldn't stop from vocalizing his pleasure, just enjoying the feel of Piccolo moving inside of him. He gripped the satiny material in front of him, breathing into the covers. That strange pulsing bliss that remained from his last orgasm was still there, dancing and melding with Piccolo's movements, becoming harder and faster and unimaginably better with each stroke. He found himself crying out as Piccolo's climax claimed him, so caught up in the moment. When he thought Piccolo was going to pull away, he tightened his tail around the green warrior and grabbed at the hand skimming up his side. "Don't. Don't stop. Please, don't stop." "I hadn't planned on it," Piccolo murmured, closing his eyes with a sigh. He had to concentrate, commanding his body to obey his desires. He smiled as he realized that it was more than happy to accommodate his wish, growing hard while still inside the young prince. He grinned as he enjoyed his complete control over his body. Even as his arousal was re-awakening, the Demon Lord was shifting their position again. He convinced Goten to lie flat on his stomach, legs spread apart. The green warrior tilted the prince's hips for better access and leverage, but the main reason for the position was for the full body contact. He laid his head next to Goten's as he began to move again. Some of his control was gone, and he didn't realize that he was moving just a fraction faster and a bit stronger, even though he was tired from his climax. Goten turned his head so that he was able to bite into the pillow on which he was resting. His hands were buried under the satin-clad piece of fluff, and it was all the prince could do to not tear the sheets. He yelped as he felt sharp fangs return to his shoulder, nipping and scraping against his skin. Goten turned from his pillow to look over his shoulder, only to be rewarded with several small kisses placed along his jaw and across his cheek. His entire body was coated with sweat, and he was breathing harder than he ever had during any workout. But Piccolo was still driving him forward, still taking the time to kiss him. It was amazing how Piccolo could make him so hard so fast, even after a recent climax. The young prince released a rapturous groan through a raw throat, closing his eyes as he tried to memorize the entirety of the moment. Piccolo closed his eyes, living for the moment, as his prince demanded that he do so long ago. He grimaced against the errant thought that this would be the last chance he'd have to be with the prince. With a battle cry that echoed in the slight room, Piccolo poured himself into pleasing him. He rode the prince hard, knowing full well that Goten was already growing aroused again, even though the youth was tired and probably very sore. It was just a shame that when the prince climaxed again, they wouldn't be facing each other. To the Demon Lord, that just wasn't right. Acting on that thought, the need to actually see Goten as the prince reached this last climax, Piccolo withdrew completely from the youth's hot and expectant body. Goten's harsh rasping cry filled the Demon Lord's ears, but that cry of frustration was soon overtaken by a cry of ecstasy as Piccolo shifted them so that Goten was again on his back. The green warrior held the prince's knees up and against his pale shoulders, spreading his legs apart in the process. And then he penetrated the royal with as much force as he'd been using. The brown tail had come loose in the change of position, but it quickly latched on to Piccolo's waist again, holding on as if it was afraid to let go. Piccolo looked down at the demi-saiyajin, dark eyes gazing into half-lidded glazed brown eyes, staring into the shimmering depths as he proceeded. Goten tilted his head back to moan in euphoria, his eyes threatening to roll back in his head, but no sound emerged and he couldn't break eye-contact even if he had wanted to. Under him, his bed was beginning to voice its displeasure at being so cruelly used for the night, squeaking as if it were an old machine. The prince knew he was using what little reserves of energy he had, but he wouldn't be denied the chance to touch as much of Piccolo as he could, running his hands over all the green and pink flesh that was close enough to reach. He quickly discovered that he was unable to talk, so without sound, the demi-saiyajin simply mouthed, "More." Not for the first time, Piccolo found himself helpless to refuse his prince's wishes. With a low rumble that grew into a roar, Piccolo gave his all, moving recklessly. He knew, in the back of his mind, that he had come into this with a plan. He had known exactly of what he was capable, and he rather thought he knew how to please the demi-saiyajin. But, for the life of him, he couldn't remember what it was. All he knew at that moment, as he felt Goten's heat repeatedly encasing him, was that he needed the prince. He wanted. And he wouldn't be able to have. The great Demon Lord Piccolo cried out in a mixture of regret and pleasure as he reached his breaking point, his second climax washing through him, "Goten!" Goten felt Piccolo's release, and it triggered his own. Liquid ecstasy spilt out between them, taking all Goten's strength and breath with it, leaving him hollow. His nerves were shot, and it was all the young prince could do to remain mostly aware. He was too weak to keep his eyes open, though. Too weak to talk. Too weak to beg for more. As he rested there, he felt Piccolo release his hold, allowing pale legs to fall back to a more comfortable position. There was the sudden, all consuming spike of fear as he felt more than saw Piccolo move off the bed. '_Don't! Don't stop. Don't go. Don't leave me. Please, don't leave me alone..._' But try as he might, the demi-saiyajin couldn't gather any air to speak, or any strength to try and prevent the departure. He was too weak to call out. Too weak to hold on. Too weak to cry. '_I'm just too pathetically weak. I always have been._' Goten laid on his bed, naked and sore, and felt more helpless than he ever had in his long life, including the years spent in 'training' to be the Royal Inquisitor. But then, he felt the bed shift, and a warm rag was washing over his body, washing him off. By some miracle, Goten turned in the direction towards where he felt Piccolo, purring his euphoria. The top bed cover was tossed away, and Piccolo situated them both under the sheets, which were still amazingly dry. Goten smiled as he curled up on top of his green warrior. They laid there, Goten laying half on and half off of the larger man, more a tangle of limbs than two separate beings. Goten sighed as he drifted off to sleep, feeling acceptance and love. And completely whole. *** It was mid-afternoon when Yamcha heard the door-chime for his room. He answered it, rather than Vegeta, and was unsurprised to find Krillin smirking up at him. "Hey, man," he greeted. "You're a little early." "Have I ever mentioned how totally stupid all of the guards here are?" the short human asked, stepping into the room and letting the door shut behind him. When he caught a sharp look from Vegeta, he grinned brightly. "Not you, Vegeta, but um, you know... all the other guards." "So, what'd you do with your guard?" queried Yamcha. "Took him out to the middle of nowhere. Shot him. Left him for dead." Vegeta looked at the smaller male incredulously, his eyes wide and one vein in his forehead threatening to burst out of his skin. "WHAT?! You -killed- a guard?! We'll never make it out of the palace..." "You know, I take it back," Krillin remarked. "All of the guards here are stupid." "Why, you little--" Vegeta growled, his tail puffing slightly as he took a menacing step forward. "Easy, Geta," snickered Yamcha, pulling back slightly on his lover's shoulders. "Krillin was just joking. That was a joke." "I saw nothing humorous about it," the shorter male retorted, curling his tail back to its familiar position around his waist. He slanted a glare at the bald human, not sure what to make of the comment. "Yeah, yeah, yeah," smirked the bald male. "The other you doesn't have a sense of humor, either. Dunno why I thought you'd get that. Anyway, no, I didn't really kill the guy." "So, where is he?" the scarred human inquired. "I just told him that 18 just messaged me and said she'd be back in five minutes and that he could go," he shrugged. "Moron ran like I'd set his ass on fire." "18 didn't really message you?" "No." "You haven't... heard from her at all since day before yesterday?" "No." "Isn't that a little weird?" "It's fine with me, actually," Krillin admitted. "At least I'm not fending her off. Two days of peace. It's been wonderful. You know, I actually feel sorry for all the girls I used to chase. Having someone you don't like constantly trying to get into your pants is a total drag. Besides, her not being around makes our departure all that much easier. Kinda convenient." "Almost too convenient, to be honest," Vegeta said. "Don't worry. Everything is going to be fine," Yamcha smiled. "So! You guys ready to head up to Piccolo's room? That's where we agreed to leave from, right?" "Yeah," nodded the small human, turning around and pressing the switch to open the door. He walked slightly ahead of the other two and got into the lift ahead of them, standing at the operation panel. Raising a finger to press one of the buttons, Krillin paused. "Push the button already, man," the other human prompted. "Okay. Um..." Krillin blinked at the panel before turning to face his two companions. Scratching the back of his head, he grinned sheepishly. "Heh. Which floor is he on again?" Yamcha blinked back, not moving otherwise. "Uh... Shit, I dunno. Um... Do -you- know, Vegeta?" "... I have no idea," Vegeta answered, his eyes growing large as he looked between the two humans. He was getting a sinking feeling in his gut. And they hadn't even left the palace yet! "Well, shit," cursed Krillin. "Why didn't anybody think to ask Piccolo what room he's staying in? Nice planning, everybody. Damn." "Well... Okay, okay. We have to know -something- that might give us a clue as to where his room is," Yamcha stated, turning his head to look at both Krillin and Vegeta, trying to use logic to solve their little problem. "Hmm. I know his floor is above yours, but that's about all I know," the saiyajin replied, crossing his arms and regarding his companions. It struck him for the first time how much they depended upon the tall, green warrior. The once prince realized with a start that Piccolo truly was the brains of the three. That sinking feeling grew worse. '_We're going to get stuck in this elevator. We're going to get caught. I can't believe this._' He glanced up at Yamcha, who tossed him a small, apologetic smile. '_Cute,_' he thought. '_Cute, but dumb. Oh, gods, give me strength..._' "Oh! His room is by Goten's!" Krillin exclaimed, snapping his fingers in the air. "I remember him saying that now." "Well, why didn't you mention that in the first place?" Vegeta chastised. "Prince Goten's room is on Level 10, and there are only two suites on that level." "Sweet!" Krillin grinned, pressing in the button labeled '10'. Hopping out of the elevator, he came to a full stop, not even flinching when Vegeta and Yamcha walked right into him. "Get a load of this friggin' hallway." The hallway for Level 10 was unlike any of the other housing level's corridors. The ceiling curved into high points, similar to something they might've seen in a cathedral back on their Earth. Though also metal, like the other passageways, this hall's metal was dark and burnished. Light gleamed off the facets in each archway, though no source of light was detected. Krillin let out a low whistle. "Wow. The floor is so clean." "Dude, it's like a gothic space temple," commented Yamcha. Pulling Vegeta a tad bit closer to him as they made their way down the hall, he asked, "How come this level looks so different?" "It's Prince Goten's level," the saiyajin answered matter-of-factly, as if that would elucidate everything. "You could eat off of this floor," noted Krillin, pointing at the floor and nodding. "What difference would that make?" the scarred human inquired. "You know. That it's his level." "He has lived on this level since he was born," explained Vegeta. "When he was twelve years old, he had the entire floor demolished and rebuilt to his specifications. That's why this level is -his- level. He created it." "At twelve?" Yamcha frowned. "That's industrious of him." "How did they get the floor so clean?" "Krillin! Enough about the floor, man," Yamcha half-barked, half-joked. "Next time I turn around, you'll probably be making out with it." "Have you -looked- at the floor? It's unbelievable!" "Ahem," Vegeta cleared his throat loudly. "I believe Piccolo is in this room." The erstwhile saiyajin prince pressed the button for entry to the Demon Lord's room. As the door slid open, the eager humans behind him pushed their way into the room, bringing Vegeta with them. Then they froze. Not ten feet in front of them stood Piccolo and Prince Goten, their lips locked together, arms wrapped around each other. "Huh. I suppose we should've knocked," Krillin remarked, diverting his eyes to the floor, which made Vegeta and Yamcha follow suit. The statement, of course, made their presence known to the other males in the room, causing them to move apart. Grabbing onto the shirts of his companions and pulling them with him, the short human announced, "You know, we're just... going to... wait outside." As Goten moved away from him to stare out the balcony's glass doors, Piccolo nodded to them and then looked over at the prince, moving behind him to join him. Wrapping his arms around the smaller male's waist, he placed a chaste kiss on Goten's neck. "I guess it's finally time," he whispered. "I guess so," came the soft reply. Folding his arms atop Piccolo's and leaning back into the embrace, the demi-saiyajin was proud at the strength in his quiet words. "How can you be so calm?" Piccolo asked him, lightly blowing the words into the dark-haired youth's ear. "I'm not calm." Goten tried as hard as he could to swallow the hard lump that had lodged itself in his throat, but his chest felt so tight and his eyes stung. He wasn't ready. He just wasn't ready. His chin quivering, he winced when he heard his slightly breaking voice say, "You're leaving. I don't even know what I'm going to do once you're gone. I'm never going to see you again. How could I possibly be calm?" "Goten..." "If I asked you to stay... would you stay?" "Don't ask me," Piccolo commanded quietly. He wanted to. He wanted to stay, and he knew that if Goten came up with the slightest possible reason, he would find himself more than willing and ready to stay. But, he had responsibilities back home, and it tore at him how he had to give up the happiness he had found in order to go back to... his duties. It was always him. "You know I can't." "I know." The young prince sucked in a shaky breath, nearly allowing a sharp sob to escape his lips. "It's just that... You're asking me to let you go. And no matter how -right- I know it is, it will be the most terrible thing I've ever done. And will ever do." He turned around then, wiping at his eyes. He had to be strong. He had to! "But I know you have to go." Goten leaned against the taller male on his tiptoes and pressed his slightly parted lips against Piccolo's for the last time. He couldn't keep the contact, though. It was only going to delay the inevitable, and they were both hurting enough as it was. There was no point in prolonging the pain. Breaking the kiss quickly, he moved towards the door. Just as he reached for the panel, he paused, turning his head to glance over his shoulder. "Do you remember, the first time, in the garden, you asked me who I was?" "Yes. I remember," Piccolo nodded slowly. He hated this. He didn't want to have to say good-bye, but he knew he had to. "I know who I am now," Goten said, shifting so that he wasn't looking over his shoulder, but wasn't facing the tall warrior either. "And who is that?" "I am you." Goten smiled sadly, tears on the verge of breaking loose. He looked to the ground and then back up, adding on quickly. "Please don't forget me." And then he was walking out of the door, trying to outrun the pain that gripped him. While the humans were to content to look anywhere but at the figure coming through the door, Vegeta's head snapped up at the sound, his eyes meeting with Goten's. The saiyajin bit lightly on the inside of his lower lip as he saw the red, wet orbs of the younger male. How the youth could do what he was doing, how he was able to still function while losing someone who so obviously meant -everything- to him, was beyond Vegeta's comprehension. Yet he understood the strength behind it. Because that was the kind of man Prince Goten had become. Respect soared within the elder man. The once prince of all saiyajins slowly bowed to the other prince in more than simple acknowledgement. Goten stopped at the bow, taken aback somewhat. The understanding in the older man's eyes nearly caused the tears the demi-saiyajin had been trying to contain to spill down his face. But instead, he lowered his eyes and bowed in return. Because he also knew Vegeta was just doing what had to be done. As he was doing. But no sooner had the gesture been made than had Goten walked on, practically running into the lift. "He'll be monitoring us personally in the surveillance room," a deep voice suddenly broke into the silence. The three men standing in the hall looked up at Piccolo's tall frame looming in the still open doorway. Nodding, Yamcha found his voice. "So... then... When are we leaving?" "Now."   



	25. Loyalty

_Disclaimer - I, Summer Starr, and my fellow, Deani Bean, own DBZ. Granted, that's in another dimension, in a different place and time, but we do. Right here, right now we don't. But, somewhere else, I'm sure we do. The possibilities are endless, after all._

_Warnings - NOT THE FINAL CHAPTER!!! Um, yeah. Just in case you were wondering, this work of monumental proportions ISN'T done yet. Meaning, the story isn't going to end here. Have I stressed that enough? Yaoi is here, as it has been in every other chapter. Violence. Character Death. You know, all the good stuff._ **Kingdom Come**  
~ Chapter 25 '_Ouch._' Goten stood at the main controls in the surveillance room, making sure everything was going smoothly. For Piccolo. But he didn't want to think about that. He -couldn't-, or else he might start 'almost crying' again. At least there were no witnesses; he'd made sure of that. With three little words. "Get out. Now." That was all it took to get the on-duty surveillance team to leave. He'd barely had time to blink; they'd left -that- fast. His eyes followed the four fighters across one screen. Of course, he could have been one of them. And he knew that. But, like Piccolo, he had his own responsibilities and obligations. Goten and Piccolo had decided long ago, when the topic had been breached for one brief period of time, that the demi-saiyajin would be staying. He was a prince. He was the Royal Inquisitor. He couldn't leave. Even if he wanted nothing more than to do just that. Muscles all over the prince's body screamed in protest as he reached across the main interface to switch off the recorders for the sandy area across which the others were about to fly. Behind him, his tail helped to balance him as he moved, even though it was in pain as well. Once, he'd thought pain was a friend; he could handle pain. But this was different. And for a much better purpose. '_It'll pass soon,_' he thought to himself, wincing with another small movement. '_Maybe even by next month._' Unfortunately, his legs were also getting tired. He'd been standing for nearly three hours already. He glanced at the somewhat cushy seat behind him and wondered if he should maybe try to sit in it again. Slowly moving it close to the interface, Goten carefully attempted to lower himself onto the chair. But the moment any real weight or pressure had been placed on his tender rear, he moved faster than his muscles would've liked and jumped away from the chair. Sighing deeply in resignation, he stood again at the main controls. "This is going to be a really long day." *** "Damn, man," Krillin mumbled, as he glanced around the cave in which Mr. Popo lived. "Just how -long- have you been living in this hole?" The walls were rough, red stone, and the floor was almost completely sand with a few rocks strewn about as if they were low shelves that were just waiting for some kind of furnishing to rest upon them. There were torches scattered around the room, some were even lit to give the area a small amount of light, though there wasn't much to illuminate. There were a few tapestries tacked up, as if to hide the fact that the walls were nothing more than bare stone. But the only truly magnificent piece in the room was a large, perfectly polished mirror. The mirror stood taller than Piccolo, and its frame was of an almost silver-like substance. At first glance, it seemed that the frame was bare of any ornamentation, but upon closer look, it was obvious that there were fine, perfect glyphs along the border where the frame met the mirror surface. The mirror itself was perfectly polished, until it nearly glowed from within. "Is that it?" inquired Yamcha, nodding his head towards the object. "Yes," Mr. Popo nodded, stepping closer to the mirror. "The Mirror of Janus." "Wait, wait, wait," Krillin interjected, shaking his head. "That doesn't look like the mirror -we- came through. Our mirror was a big oval thing. This thing has, like... corners. It's a... rectangle." "So this is -not- the right thing?" the scarred male asked. "Aw, shit!" "No, no, please. Allow me to explain." The dark-skinned d'jinn picked up a small cloth and carefully wiped something off the mirror that no one else in their right mind could see. "Every universe has its own Mirror of Janus, but each mirror is as unique as its home. Sometimes, the mirror isn't even a mirror by our standards, nor called the Mirror of Janus. But it is always reflective. Its light gives it away." Yamcha bent his head down towards the shorter human seeking assurance. "Is he saying that this -is- the thing we're looking for?" "Yeah, I think that's what he's saying." "Good. Just wanted to make that clear." Piccolo sighed in exasperation. He'd fought alongside these two humans for years, and yet, it had never quite sunk in that, occasionally, they had the brains of a gerbil between them. It wasn't always the case, he knew, but still. One had to have godlike patience when dealing with the rest of the Z-fighters. '_Especially Goku. I don't know how Chichi managed it all those years. Probably why she's such a bitch._' The namek raised his eyebrow ridges as a voice softly asked the former companion of a god a question. "Are you coming with us, too?" Vegeta queried. He was the slowest among them, though he was flying faster than he ever had before then. At that moment, the only thing he needed to know was if the thin, dark man in front of him was going to slow them down further, not that he was certain the other man -would- slow them down. The erstwhile prince just didn't want anything to go wrong. Mr. Popo simply smiled at the small saiyajin. "No. Not in the way you mean." "What?" Yamcha started. "What's that mean?" "With you comes the end," stated the d'jinn. "And I will wait for it." The fighters stood still, a quizzical expression shared between them, each wondering just how cryptic the man was being... or how honest. Yet, it was Piccolo who broke the strained silence. "I have some things I'd like to ask you." Then, begrudgingly, he added, "Please." The small smile claimed Mr. Popo's face again. "You may ask. As long as I may ask you questions in return." "I... guess," the namek shrugged a bit. Pausing for a moment, Piccolo collected his thoughts, ordering out the questions in his head, putting the most important to him first. "All right. How did you know? To keep the mirror safe. To look for us. And how did you know to look for -us-, in particular? I know you had that scroll that said a few thing, but..." "Ah. A good set of questions," nodded Mr. Popo. He moved to sit upon a flat rock away from the mirror. "My Kami told me. When the tailed beast you call Lord Kakarrot rained terror down on the good people of this planet, Kami went to speak with him, perhaps even fight with him. But he knew, you see. He knew he was walking down to meet his death." Yamcha gasped suddenly, turning to look at Vegeta. "That's what you meant, wasn't it?" he questioned. "When you said that Lord Kakarrot killed the ruler here. I mean, of course! I never even made the correlation." "Well, I -did- say he lived in the tower where you were found," pointed out Vegeta. "How old was he when that happened?" Krillin thought to insert. "Lord what's-his-face, I mean." "Young. Fourteen or fifteen, I think." Krillin smirked triumphantly. "Aha! See that, Piccolo? Kami was killed before his uglier half was released from that... What was that thing? Hmm... Oh, well. I don't remember. Anyway! You never even -existed- here! How do you like that?" "What I would like," the taller male snarled, "is for you all to shut up and let Mr. Popo finish what he was saying." The other three quieted and bowed their heads a bit, having the good sense to look embarrassed. Mr. Popo then spoke up again. "As I was saying, my Kami knew he was going to die. But before he left, he told me to take the mirror and leave. He told me to 'wait patiently in hiding, for a disturbance will come. They will come... And then it ends.' He could often see things that had not yet come to pass, you understand. He knew. And so I know. As for how I knew it was you specifically, I must admit that I knew just by seeing you, Lord Piccolo. There are no nameks left in this universe. Kami was the last." "Namek? What's a namek? A... race?" wondered Vegeta aloud, looking at Piccolo. "Is -that- what you are?" "That sucks, dude," the short human murmured. "They killed off all your people, Piccolo. What a bunch of jerks." "They're all gone? How long ago?" Piccolo asked quietly. "Longer than a century, far longer," answered the d'jinn, a hoarse sadness creeping into his voice. But that same small smile remained in place. The Demon Lord tilted his head to one side, reevaluating the questions in his head, some of which had been answered without him asking them, thanks to the humans' affinity for interrupting things. Shaking his head, he went ahead with the couple of remaining questions. "This mirror. It's the same, but different, you said. How does it work? Do we need to know the inscriptions on the frame?" Vegeta sighed with relief, though that went unnoticed by everyone else. '_The brains of this operation. At last!_' he thought. Nodding, he felt assurance in their mission with Piccolo's leadership behind it. "The inscriptions are merely the story of the mirror. I would read them, but I realize you must be pressed for time," Mr. Popo relayed. "In order for it to... work, you merely need to be looking upon the surface of the mirror. Not necessarily looking into it. Or at your reflection. Only the surface. I'm afraid that's all I can tell you. I know much about the mirror, but there is a great deal I do -not- know." Piccolo nodded. "Thank you. I have just one last question. Is there anything special we need to do to transport the mirror? We do have a long flight." Chuckling, Mr. Popo replied, "There's nothing special. You can just carry it normally. Only take care not to drop it." "All right," accounted the tall warrior. Moving over to the large, shining object, Piccolo braced himself to pick it up, thinking it to be at least moderately heavy. Instead, he found it weighed nearly nothing, as if he were picking up solid air. "We're indebted to you, Mr. Popo. Thank you." "No need to thank me. I am only doing as I have always done: helping guard this planet." The dark-skinned man watched the others as they began to file out of his home, bowing slightly to the tall namek. "But may I ask my question?" "I apologize. I'd forgotten you had things you wanted to ask," Piccolo responded. "Go ahead." "I only have one question," Mr. Popo smiled. "Did you find what you were seeking?" Piccolo frowned slightly. "I don't think I understand." "The mirror of your universe brought you here. So... You must have been seeking something," he stated plainly. "I... I don't know," answered the green male. "If I was looking for something, I don't know what it was." "Curious. Hmm." The d'jinn appeared pensive for a moment then smiled again. "Take care, Lord Piccolo." "I will. Thank you." *** Stalking through the hallways in what others would call a perfect impression of his father on a 'bad day', Prince Gohan fumed. While he spent the day doing normal things, he hadn't spent his evening that way. On an average day, he would start to end it by having a nice, long dinner with his only sibling, followed by a nice round of rough sex and then sleep. Lately, he'd been foregoing the sex, as he'd found no satisfaction in bedding -anyone- at all. But this evening took the cake; Goten never showed up for dinner. Once the elder prince had finished eating his fill, he began to search for the younger male, asking every single person with whom he came into contact if they knew where his brother was. '_Not only has our father not checked in,_' he thought to himself, '_but now Goten thinks he can run off without saying a word. Where the hell -is- he?_' Coming across another guard who had the sad misfortune of crossing his path that evening, he grabbed and twisted his arm. "Have you seen Prince Goten?" "N-no, sire," the guard stuttered. "Have you heard anything of his whereabouts?" the demi-saiyajin snapped. "No, sire, but -- ow!" He twisted the underling's arm further. "What? What do you know?" "I heard at dinner, milord, a rumor that Prince Goten has given all surveillance teams the evening off," explained the pained guard. Feeling the royal was not convinced, as Prince Gohan continued to twist his arm nearly to the breaking point, he added, "One of my buddies is on the team that was doing the second shift this afternoon. I saw him at dinner when he should've been at his post. Guess the rumors hold some water." At that, the eldest demi-saiyajin released his hold on the frightened guard, striding away towards the surveillance room without even thanking the guard who'd assisted him. He didn't need to thank him, after all. It was the moron's -job- to provide him with whatever information he wanted. And he'd do his job if he wanted to continue surviving. Gohan's annoyance with his brother subsided as he walked down to the surveillance room. Assuming that perhaps their father had gotten word to him, he rather thought Goten was just being careful, keeping a close watch on the planet as this universally important event -- their father's upcoming nuptials -- was prime to occur. '_Which is smart of him,_' Gohan surmised. '_Always on top of everything. Heh. He's a better guardian for this planet than all of my guards combined._' Overriding the locking command on the door, the elder prince stepped into the room, a smirk on his face. "Taking care of business as usual, little brother?" "Making sure everything goes as planned," Goten stated. Though his expression showed nothing, inwardly, he was uneasy. What the hell was his older brother doing here, of all places? Gohan never came to the surveillance room for -anything-. "And might I ask what brings you by?" "You didn't show for dinner," said Gohan. "If you knew you were going to be busy working, you should've just mentioned it. Instead I had to frighten half of the palace occupants just to get an idea of where you might be. Which wasn't all bad, I must say. Still. I could've had some servants bring you something to eat." "My apologies, brother," the younger demi-saiyajin replied. Gesturing to the panel beside him, he continued, "But I'm sure none of this interests you at all." "You're right," nodded his brother. "Couldn't care less." Goten nodded once and then went back to what he was doing before his sibling's arrival, pressing buttons and flipping switches, none of which Gohan had ever bothered to learn. Suddenly, the elder male tightly grasped his brother's shoulder and spun him around, his eyes blazing and his face frozen in a severe scowl. Leaning forward, he began sniffing. Goten's eyes widened in realization. He hadn't bathed after leaving Piccolo and his companions, and what they'd been doing before... "Why do you smell like him?" Gohan growled. He leaned in even closer before he inhaled deeply. With a snarl, he jerked back. "Like him... and like... like sex. What the -fuck- is going -on- here?! Explain!" The younger prince tore his shoulder out of his brother's grip, despite the pain that surged through his body at doing so. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he grounded out. "You... You slept with him?" asked the slightly taller demi-saiyajin. The expression on his face was anger, but his voice held mostly shock. He couldn't believe it, even though his olfactory senses told him differently. "How could you? How -could- you? I thought you understood. He was -mine-!" "He was never yours," Goten seethed, his tail snapping through the air before it wrapped gingerly, protectively around his waist. "You lying little bastard!" Gohan screeched, grabbing his brother by the front of his shirt. The emotions flooding his system were almost too difficult to decipher. He was angry, that much was clear. How dare Goten, how dare ANYONE take what was rightfully his! But mostly, he felt... betrayed. How could his brother do something like this to him? Were they not brothers? Were they not bound to each other by blood and lineage? Were they not loyal to each other, no matter what? They always had that, hadn't they? Hadn't they always, -always- been loyal to each other though -everything-? "How could you -do- this to me?!" "I didn't do anything to -you-!" Goten retorted. It was all he could do to keep the scorn out of his voice at Gohan's arrogance. He had known that the elder prince would take this the wrong way, but this had never been about Gohan. Though, for the Golden Heir, the fact that something didn't revolve around him was something that Goten knew he'd never be able to explain. No matter how much he tried. Gohan backhanded his little brother hard across his cheek. At that moment, he was so torn between outright killing him, and simply wounding to the point of crippling him. "Damn you! I have spent most of my life looking out for you and taking care of you, and you repay me by stealing that which is -mine-? Why did you do this? WHY?!" "He wasn't yours!" Goten spat back holding his hands on his brother's fist, where it was entangled in his shirt. He knew he wasn't stronger than Gohan, but that wasn't a good enough reason to prevent him from fighting back. To say he was livid would have been an understatement. Gohan let go of his younger sibling's shirt. Before the younger male could completely get his balance, though, Gohan backhanded his sibling, sending the slightly smaller man sailing backwards into the computer terminal, but not so hard as to injure the heavy-duty equipment. "What the hell did I ever do to you that would make you treat me in such a hateful, treacherous manner? What did I do to deserve -this-?!" "That's just it, Gohan," Goten replied softly. His face stung from where his brother had smacked him, and the tang of blood sparked across his tongue. He could feel the hot liquid slowly trickling down from the corner of his lips. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he further clarified, "You didn't deserve -him-." "What," the elder prince demanded rather than asked as he paused in his stalking gait towards his prey. He couldn't have heard that right. He simply couldn't have. Who did Goten think he was, saying that -HE- didn't -DESERVE- someone! He was the Golden Heir! He was next in line to take the throne! He deserved -EVERYTHING-! The universe was -HIS- to play with, to fuck stupid, or to massacre. The only reason he was limited right then was because of his father. But that wouldn't last forever. The man was old, after all. And growing senile, if his choice of marriage partners was any indication. "You would've used him," Goten snorted, and in his mind, he gagged at the thought of anyone trying to use Piccolo. No one would ever have that right, if he could help it. The young prince stood up and fell into a familiar fighting crouch, even though his muscles were dimly screaming at him that this was a bad idea. But the adrenaline that was flooding his system quieted the ache his body felt until all that concerned the demi-saiyajin was his elder sibling. "You never could've seen what kind of man he is, never could've shown him the respect he deserves, -anything- he deserves! You never would've -loved- him!" "You don't know -anything-, do you!" Gohan barked, and there was no mistaking the scorn and outright disgust in his voice. "It takes a lot more than one little fuck with someone as inexperienced as you to sway a man like that." "Shut up! You don't know anything about him!" screamed Goten, tears of anger and outright hatred pricking behind his eyes. At that moment, he would have gladly killed his brother, but he knew that even on his best day and Gohan's worst, he didn't stand a chance. "And you -do-?!" the elder demi-saiyajin retorted with a dismissive laugh before his face twisted in a way that few had ever seen and lived to tell about. "How dare you? How dare you even presume to know anything about something that's rightfully mine?! I should -kill- you!" Just at that moment, movement on one of the surveillance screens caught the elder prince's eye. His brow furrowed as he slowly focused in on just exactly what he was seeing. "What the hell...? Is that...? What are they doing outside of the palace? And why is Vegeta with them? Is this...?" He turned fiercely on Goten then. "This is why you were down here, isn't it? Isn't it! You were making sure they could escape! You don't just let people like them -go-. What the fuck is -wrong- with you, Goten?" Gohan closed the distance between them faster than the younger man thought possible, and grabbed Goten before throwing him hard into the far wall, effectively rendering the younger demi-saiyajin unconscious. With a roar of rage at the unsatisfactory conclusion to the fight, the Golden Heir returned to the controls. He wanted to thrash his foolish sibling, but there were other concerns. Piccolo was leaving! That was just unacceptable. After he studied the many switches and buttons for a minute, he began to curse. "Dammit! I should've had him show me how to use this." Randomly pressing buttons, he finally stumbled upon one that told him what was being shown on the screens. Gohan programmed the coordinates of the last screen in which he saw them as well as the general direction in which they were flying into his scouter. He snorted as his gaze slid over the crumpled form of his errant brother, but Gohan knew that he'd have time to deal with his traitorous brother. He may not have had Goten's skill at torture, but sometimes brute-strength was just as useful a tool as precision was. He grinned smugly as he quickly left the surveillance room, fully intending to intercept and apprehend the four warriors. *** Vegeta touched down on the broken tiles of the abandoned Look-out with a sigh of utmost relief. It had been a long, long time since he had been pushed that hard for a simple flight. His body was already coated with a fine sheen of moisture, though some of it was surely from some of the clouds they passed through. It was heavily overcast that night, so heavily that, for as far as the naked eye could see, there was nothing to the sky other than absolute blackness. The inky darkness bled onto the landscape, and Vegeta was barely able to discern the tall Demon Lord moving to set up the mirror. He had draped his cape over the metal and glass creation to hide its slowly building glow. The cloth did amazingly well for the task. His tail bristled around him as he looked around to all the unknown dangers. "Are you sure it's safe here?" "Yeah, Geta," Yamcha said, surprisingly close to the short saiyajin. He moved so that he could drape an arm over his lover's shoulder before moving closer to where he felt Piccolo. "We're safe for at least another hour. And that's all that we need." "Hn," Vegeta commented without actual words. He looked over his shoulder at the abyss behind him before he moved forward to where the others were. They had flown here blind, and it was only because Piccolo knew this location so incredibly well as to be able to find it without any kind of guidance that they managed to arrive in one piece. '_Of course, for all I know, those antennae could be divining rods, and -that's- how we got here._' "Hey...? Guys? Can you feel that?" Krillin asked. "Feel what?" Yamcha replied, searching outwards. "Hey!" "Odd...," Piccolo commented as he entered the conversation. "What? What's wrong?" Vegeta asked, worried. He didn't like the shock that sounded in each of their voices. It wasn't good. There was trouble. And when there was trouble, there was usually pain and humiliation involved as well. "It's... like a wall of static has fallen over my senses." Krillin tried to explain. "I can't feel anyone's chi. Not the planet's, not yours, not even Piccolo's." "It's weird," Yamcha said softly, moving so that he could wrap his arms around the short saiyajin prince. "It'll pass, though, right?" "Something's happening," Piccolo stated, and even in the darkness, they all knew that he was looking at the still covered form of the mirror. "It must be the mirror. It's disrupting our abilities. Hn. This was unforeseen." "Well... If you think about it, Trunks and Goten were awfully shocked to see us when they started messing with it in our dimension," Krillin remembered. Vegeta snorted and crossed his arms. "Though you're the brains of this outfit, and there's no contest on that one, you aren't a god. You don't know everything and can't plan for it either." "Um, Geta... Piccolo... Piccolo is part Kami. Kami was a god. Like, -the- god... of this planet," Yamcha tried to explain. "Oh." He and Vegeta and Krillin formed a small huddle against a broken wall as they waited for time to pass. For his part, Piccolo took the first watch; using all the senses he still possessed to search the surrounding area. Just in case. *** He knew instinctively that he hadn't been unconscious for long, yet that knowledge did not bring Goten any comfort. His entire body was one big ache, and it took him a moment to place where he was. He stood to his feet and, with conscious will, forced his knees to hold him steady. He looked around the control room, noticing the last screen his brother had accessed. The time the screen was accessed had only been ten minutes prior. With a soft curse, the youngest prince forgot all about how his body was screaming and crying out in pain. He could easily ignore all of it. The royal demi-saiyajin took off into the pitch-black night without his scouter and with only the sense of where he was going, flying low to the ground so as to stay concealed from his brother, though not the surveillance-laced lands; he couldn't care less if he was caught on any surveillance tapes of the night. Knowing Gohan was furious, he sped along faster than he thought was safe. But safety wasn't really an issue at that point. Not his safety. But the others' safety. Piccolo's. In all the years he'd known his brother, Goten knew better than anyone the wild and voracious temper of his elder sibling. That temper that had allowed him to become a super-saiyajin the very first time. That temper that gave him far more strength than he might normally possess. Strength which Piccolo might have some problems overcoming. Worst of all, Goten realized his brother's temper didn't abate over time and distance. It only festered. Which meant... Piccolo was in trouble. And that was all that mattered. *** Gohan stared at the highlighted area in front of him. If it weren't for his scouter, he would never have found the place, much less been able to see it. He knew from their postures that they had yet to see him, and the Golden Heir rather thought that they wouldn't be able to without scouters. It had taken him nearly an hour to get there, but by the readout on his scouter, it was fifteen minutes until midnight. From his vantage point, Gohan could see a lot of things through the rosy lens of his apparatus. It galled him to realize that his brother wasn't the only one who knew that Piccolo and his pet humans were leaving. Obviously, Vegeta knew too. Enraged eyes narrowed as the prince watched as the human Yamcha threw an arm around the scouter-less saiyajin. Through the small lens, Gohan could see Vegeta's tail wrapped around the scarred human, as if the guard owned him. The short human, Krillin, was close by, but he wasn't paying any attention to the two lovers. And in the prince's mind, that was indeed what Vegeta and Yamcha were. Gohan's lips twisted in a sneer. The scene disgusted him. So, being the warrior that he was, and the prince that he was, Gohan knew that an unnoticed attack would be the most effective. And while he knew that Vegeta and the humans wouldn't be a bother to him, he didn't want to deal with them while he dealt with the fearsome Demon Lord. Just at the thought of being one-on-one with Piccolo had Gohan's smirk turning into something a bit more sinister. He laughed softly to himself as he looked over at the underside of the bowl shaped palace. He'd go one-on-one with the Demon Lord... and then he'd make sure that he learned the difference between fucking his little brother and fucking the person to whom he truly belonged. There was no warning. One moment Yamcha was holding on loosely to his Geta, and Krillin was nearby murmuring about his list of 'things to do' once he got back; the next minute, there was a huge ball of energy and heat and death hurling at them. Yamcha barely had time to register the attack before it crashed into them. Krillin had time to throw up his arms in a classic block, glancing over his shoulder as the other two were illuminated by the glow of the energy attack while they were being knocked backwards and out of sight. Piccolo turned his attention to the now glowing super-saiyajin prince. With a snarl of rage, he planted his feet on the ground, effectively protecting the mirror while the others found their own feet. "What the hell...?" Krillin muttered as the stars that shined only in his eyes cleared. "It's Prince Gohan," Piccolo said. He knew he should have expected this. But he was still surprised that the young man had landed such a sneak attack. It seemed beneath even him, but then, nothing was as it seemed in this world. He should have expected it. Gohan was downwind of them, and still miles away. If it wasn't for the fact that he was glowing as bright as a new sun at the moment, he'd have still been invisible to them all. Hell, they were invisible to themselves in the darkness without their other senses. "Krillin, can you see the others?" "They got blown back a bit," answered the ex-monk. "I don't see them right now." "Guard the mirror. I'm going to go deal with our royal pain," Piccolo growled, totally disgusted with himself and the situation. If he hadn't been thinking about the prince he left behind, then he might have been paying more attention to the situation at hand. It wasn't like him to get so distracted. He should have expected it, though. He didn't wait for the human to acknowledge his statement, jumping to the air determined to get this done with quick. He didn't want to miss their window of opportunity. "Right," Krillin replied, though he really wanted to ask, '_Are you sure?_' But this was Piccolo, and if there was one person in any universe that he trusted almost as much as he had once trusted Son Goku, it was Piccolo. He took his place in front of the mirror, straining his ears to listen for any sign of the others as well as his eyes as he watched the coming cataclysmic fight. Vegeta stumbled to his feet, seeing red. Not the red of rage, but the red of pain and blood. His blood, he was sure of it. By some twist of fate, Yamcha had been in between him and the energy sphere, taking the brunt of the attack for them. He knelt down, not entirely sure he'd be able to get back up again, and felt around in the darkness. He knew Yamcha was around there somewhere. When he found his voice, he was shocked to discover how raspy and rough it sounded in the otherwise silent area. "Yamcha? Yamcha, where are you? Answer me, dammit." '_He can't be dead. I know he can't. Fate wouldn't be -that- unkind._' "Yamcha?" "Nnnh," Yamcha groaned as he tried to sit up. He'd make it, surely. If only his stomach would stop roiling in the back of his mouth. He opened his eyes, and in the distance, he could see Piccolo and Gohan engaged in a series of furious kicks and punches, and then there was the light shining just under the edge of Piccolo's cape from the mirror. The human blinked his eyes as he finally managed to sit up, but found that even when he was sure that he had his eyes open, the spectacle before him still managed to fade in and out. He couldn't locate Vegeta, though. And he couldn't find Krillin, either. Slowly, he stumbled to his feet, calling out, "Geta? Krillin?" The short monk didn't have time to reply as a stray energy attack arrowed its way towards him and the mirror. With all his strength, he jumped to the air and deflected it away from the Look-out. For the life of him, he couldn't understand why the demi-saiyajin was being so indiscriminate with his attacks. There were far more random energy blasts than should have been needed, but it seemed that Gohan didn't care. In fact, it seemed that the prince actually was enjoying the senselessness of it. Piccolo's eyes narrowed as he moved with the fight rather than trying to keep it under his control. He had to keep his eyes focused, otherwise they'd have been dazzled by the surrounding abyss versus the brilliant illumination surrounding Gohan. There was a look of absolute rage in semi-familiar eyes, and it was both disorienting and welcomed. It was disorienting because he had never seen that look on anyone's face -- not even his own when he had been the great and fearsome Demon Lord, in truth -- and to have it directed at himself was enough to cause his heart to flutter with something close to fear. Yet, at the same time, it was welcomed as it was as sure a sign as any that this twisted image of his long-time friend was indeed his enemy. He knew that when a saiyajin -- or a demi-saiyajin, for that matter -- had a brush with death, they would recover stronger than ever. The prince was proving that that fact by attacking with a ferocity and strength that hadn't been there at the tournament, though Piccolo knew that even then Gohan hadn't held back. "YOU FUCKED HIM!" Gohan roared, blind to everything except the green man who danced through the air with him in brutal glory. He had traveled all that distance, and that was the one fact that burned the most. Not that Piccolo was leaving before he submitted in -his- bed. Not that the one little fuck by Piccolo had his little brother betraying everything he knew. Not that the little whore Vegeta was with them. When yet another series of punches didn't make it through Piccolo's defenses, the prince moved backwards through the air a bit, screaming inarticulately and lashing out with a wave of pure, destructive energy. "What the FUCK were you thinking, FUCKING my brother?! You're MINE, and you can only fuck ME, you fucking... ARGH!" Vegeta looked up as the energy wave came rushing towards the Lookout, illuminating everything. Krillin was in the air, creating a chi shield to protect the mirror. Yamcha, on the other hand, was obviously not entirely with it, noticeably stumbling as he tried to keep his feet. Fear like he'd never known had the former prince moving before he even knew what was occurring. Moving quickly, his feet not always finding their proper purchase on the ground, Vegeta made his way to Yamcha. He stood in front of his downed lover and did much like Krillin was doing. Only he wasn't as strong as the short human. And he didn't have as much time. Krillin screamed in pain and determination as the powerful wave crashed into him. He wasn't sure, but he thought he heard someone else screaming as well. He wasn't sure if that scream had only been in his imagination, though, because once the wave was beyond him and he was able to check around, it seemed he was the only one standing on the broken tiles of the Look-out grounds. The mirror was still safe, though. And that was what was important. *** The younger prince had been flying as fast as he could, pushing himself far faster than he had thought possible and beyond what he might normally consider safe considering he was pretty much flying blind and low over unfamiliar terrain. He didn't get out much. He knew the dungeons, and that was about it. Goten knew the direction to go, though. He was flying towards his brother's enraged power, and towards Piccolo's strength. He could feel the other three, but they were like small bugs against twin suns burning in the night. Flying close to the ground as he was, it was a start to realize the tower under the Look-out was just in front of him. Muttering something to himself, though he wasn't sure if it was a curse or a prayer, Goten changed his direction though he kept his speed. He was halfway up the side of the tower when he felt something -falling- on the other side. Gritting his teeth in fear and frustration, frustration more at himself than anything or anyone else, Goten went to intercept the strangely familiar, yet weak chi. Vegeta knew he was dying. That was all there was to it. He could practically feel his life force seeping out of him with the seconds that fell away. Falling like him. Falling like his blood was dripping out of him, being left behind as he passed the droplets by. Or perhaps his blood was heavier than he thought, as he was curiously lightheaded. '_Probably blood loss,_' Vegeta thought to himself, or at least he thought he thought to himself. He couldn't be sure if those were actual thoughts or not. He closed his eyes, trying to gather his thoughts, and found himself thinking that it must be raining. There was thunder rumbling above him. It hadn't taken Vegeta long to learn the primary language of humans, but once he did, he had taken to reading as much as he could. One of his favorite things to read was the humans' description of death and dying. The saiyajin had always imagined it like a burnt-out light; it went out in the blink of an eye, suddenly and completely. So, he assumed when he died, he would just be... dead. Humans, on the other hand, often saw 'their entire lives flashing before their eyes'. He wondered why that was. He was falling, the cold wind ripping past him as he plummeted toward the earth. Had he saved Yamcha from that energy attack? He thought so. He hoped so. He prayed that he had. The sensation was strange. Not the falling, but the feeling of life dissipating from his body. Vegeta was dying. And he discovered something. Humans were both right and wrong about what they saw just before they died. It was a near miss as Goten reached out his arms and caught the dying saiyajin. The young demi-saiyajin didn't need to be an expert in death to know what killed Vegeta. Floating in the air, he brought the short fighter close to him. He knew, from a vague memory, that there was an old building on top of the tower before the Lookout. Goten raced towards it, looking out for it even as he tried to get Vegeta's attention. "Vegeta. Vegeta, what's going on up there?" Too numb to realize he'd stopped falling, he barely registered the face into which he was looking. He knew that face. It wasn't one he loved. But it was one he respected. And he remembered that. "Prince," he managed. "Vegeta, tell me what's going on up there." "Did you know... that when you die... your entire life flashes before your eyes?" "I've never died. I wouldn't know," Goten sighed, a little exasperatedly. "Listen to me. I need to know what's happening. Is Piccolo all right? My brother?" "Yes," he mumbled, blinking slowly. "They're... fighting. Prince Gohan is angry. But I don't think he's figured out yet that Piccolo loves you." The small saiyajin gave him a minute smile. "I know it's a secret. I won't tell." Goten looked Vegeta over and saw the severity of his injuries. "There's nothing I can do for you." "I think I'm dying. Don't you?" "Yes." "Yamcha... I can see him now," Vegeta smiled weakly. "And he's all I see. He was my life." Then, with a sudden clarity and asceticism, Vegeta looked directly into Goten's eyes. "See. You have to see." Goten's lips pressed tightly together as he felt the last of Vegeta's energy drain away. Gently, he laid the older man down on the cracked and dirty ground. It was all he could do. He spared the once prince a second glance before he jetted back into the sky. Mindful of the stray energy attacks that sliced through the air towards him, he continued to fly upwards. They were going everywhere, though, as if a storage unit full of fireworks exploded. But, the light helped him to see the scene before him, and when he did, Goten almost wished he could somehow remain blind. Gohan had managed to get both of his hands around Piccolo's throat. And even from where the youngest demi-saiyajin floated, it was clear that Piccolo was struggling to get free, and with very little success. It took him a moment, but Goten finally registered the fact that Gohan was screaming as he choked the life out of Piccolo. "YOU ARE MINE! FOREVER! AND DON'T YOU FUCKING FORGET IT!" Gohan screeched. And then, even as he was trying to squeeze the very breath out of Piccolo, the crazed prince leaned forward and pressed an open mouth kiss across his lips. Goten wasn't sure what happened next, but he was suddenly firing the most impressive energy attack he of which had ever conceived straight at his brother. His scream of rage and anger and outright fury warned Gohan, though, and the elder prince smartly threw his victim away even as he moved in the other direction to avoid the blast. Looking through his scouter, Gohan managed to read the time before the thing shut down on him. It had a tendency to do that on only one occasion: when it was trying to collect data on a super-saiyajin. But Gohan knew for a fact that his father had yet to return home, and Vegeta was as good as dead... The fast right hook to his face hit the elder prince hard, knocking him back into the moment and giving him the first taste of an enraged Goten. An enraged super-saiyajin Goten. There was a part of Goten's mind that was curiously detached from what he was doing. It was as if he was in that small part of his mind into which he usually went when committing some kind of act that would leave a normal person screaming in terror. It was as if he was standing outside of himself and watching as he threw energized punch after punch straight as his elder brother. He registered the fact that he was a super-saiyajin, but it didn't matter all that much. All that mattered was that Gohan was trying to hurt Piccolo. Trying to kiss Piccolo. And that was just unacceptable. Piccolo flew backwards from the fight, blinking his eyes at the sudden appearance of the other prince. He wanted to rejoin the fight, but he knew that time was running out. He watched the altercation, trying to judge what would be the best course of action. He knew he had to get back to the Look-out. He didn't want to, but he knew he had to. He had to make sure the Mirror of Janus was safe, even though Krillin had been taking care of it. And he had to be looking at it in order for it to transport him back home, back to his duties. Still, he didn't want to. "Piccolo!" Goten shouted, gaining the green fighter's attention even as he tried to fight his older brother. "Get going. I'll take care of this." Piccolo wanted to deny that. He wanted to say that Goten wasn't as familiar with fighting at that level of power, that Gohan had more experience, and that he was still at a disadvantage. With a sigh of self-defeat, though, the great Demon Lord turned and returned to the crumbling remains of his dimensional twin's home. He couldn't bring himself to deny Goten's wish. It was as if the young prince was defending him, standing up to his older brother outright for the first time, and Piccolo was unable to deny him that. He landed with a muffled click to the ground and easily tossed off his cape from the mirror. It was glowing dimly, but visibly. Next to him, Krillin landed. "Is it almost time?" Krillin asked, torn between watching the battle and watching the mirror. It was a very impressive battle. Plus, he knew he had to find Yamcha and Vegeta. He didn't want to miss his opportunity to return home, though. As if sensing the other human's concern, Yamcha stumbled forward, almost falling on top of his shorter friend. "Hey... Have you seen Vegeta? Damn, that mirror is bright." "Goten, what the fuck do you think you're doing?" Gohan screamed, mindful that Goten -was- a super-saiyajin, and being honest with himself in acknowledging the fact that he didn't care, "You fucking moron! You're interrupting me! I'm fucking fighting Piccolo, and here you come, and fucking--" "Oh, shut up, already!" Goten retorted, disgust and contempt naked in his voice. He was pissed off, and feeling a bit stupid and giddy all at the same time. That sensation came out in words as he antagonized his brother into a further rage. "You weren't doing anything except making an ass out of yourself. But then, you're good at that." "WHATTHEFUCK!" Gohan raged. Using his anger to fuel his attacks, he blindly set forth on turning his dear brother to a small, boneless meat patty. Preferably charred. "What? Is it because you managed to fuck him once, it gives you the right to interfere here?" Goten smirked as he actually managed to catch one of his brother's fists. "You know, you're right. We only fucked once. But we had sex many, many, many more times." That smugness, that smirk, was what drove Gohan over the edge on which he had already been teetering. Goten didn't even see the blow that had him suddenly sprawled a couple dozen feet from where Piccolo and the two humans stood, still valiantly guarding that accursed mirror that would take them home. Piccolo watched as Goten fell, but didn't go to help the young prince to his feet again. Gohan was still in the air, still very dangerous, and therefore still a threat. He wanted to, though. '_I should be used to not doing or getting what I want by now._' There wasn't a muscle in the youngest prince's body that didn't scream out in protest as he tried to regain his feet. But it wasn't a successful attempt, and even the thrill of turning into a super-saiyajin wasn't enough to keep the altered form present. The light around him died as he fell back into his normal state of being the Dark Prince. He knew he was only winded, and if he had enough time he'd be more than ready to rejoin the fight. He just didn't think he had enough time. Krillin managed to whisper what everyone else was feeling at that particular moment. "Oh, shit." Gohan raged in inarticulate screams for a moment as he raised his arms above his head, gathering an immense amount of energy very, very rapidly. Too rapidly for even Piccolo to intervene. "You fucking whore, Goten! He was fucking MINE! And you stole him. And not only that, but you fucking gloat about it! In front of me! You know what! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU ALL!" Krillin and Yamcha both gasped in total horror as the huge energy blast came right at them. It was angled so that it would hit them all, coming from behind the mirror. The Mirror of Janus's silvery light was eclipsed from behind by the golden glory that was the enraged prince's parting gift. They couldn't run. There wasn't time to fight. Piccolo, Yamcha, Krillin, and Goten watched the powerful globe hurl towards them, knowing it was sure to be their deaths. They couldn't even close their eyes... ... as the clock struck midnight. ... as the gateway opened. ... as the lethal attack struck the Lookout, disintegrating everything.   
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Authors' Note: This is not the end. Repeating... This is NOT the end. Plenty more gayness to come. 


	26. No Place Like Home

_Disclaimer- Bitches, -please-._

_Warnings- Yaoi. Let me say that again. YAOI. Apparently some folks still can't see that. 'Yaoi' means male/male relationships and sex. If you can't abide by that, how did you end up this far into the story? We've been warning you all along. Also, there's... fluff, angst, etc. And now, on with the show..._ **Kingdom Come**  
~ Chapter 26 There was light. Such bright light that even closing one's eyes wouldn't dim it, even if one -could- close one's eyelids. So bright it was nearly blinding. And then there was darkness. Blinding darkness. Without warning, they appeared on a white tiled veranda, causing a new explosion of light before allowing the midnight atmosphere to once again rule. Their own entrance was blinding, as they were left almost dumb with blossoms of colors dancing within their sight. Those fire blossoms died down until there was nothing but a void of everything. And then their eyes adjusted, and the inky blankness turned into something softer. The sky was no longer a clean slate, as it had been magically transformed into ebony velvet scattered with diamond dust. The area around them stood in perfect ivory elegance, simple yet exotically beautiful. There were a few hanging lamps, adding their illuminations to the shimmer granted by starlight. There were several powerful, familiar powers nearby. And none of them held any detectable form of animosity. It was peaceful. It was familiar. It was home. It was home. They collectively breathed a deep sigh of relief. They were alive. And they were home. Piccolo closed his eyes for a moment, letting the truth of it sink in. Yamcha tried to pick himself up from where he had fallen on one knee, but the Look-out was spinning madly under him, causing him to fall down again. Krillin, after he registered that they were home, began to laugh and cry at the same time. "We're home! We're home! We're finally home!" Krillin exclaimed as he knelt down to the ground, kissing the white tiles. "Dammit, can't these magical things work without blinding us all?" a familiar voice cursed in vexation. The three fighters spun around, or rather Piccolo spun around and the other two merely moved so that they were looking in the direction of the voice. As they moved, they discovered that the Mirror of Janus -- their universe's mirror -- was behind them and to the side, another note of familiarity. There was a small welcoming party gathered for them, but many were rubbing their eyes, trying to recover from the glare. When the dancing lights had cleared even from their eyes, there was still a moment of hesitation as everyone simply stared and waited for someone else to make the first move. It was Dende, the young namekian Kami, who finally broke the growing awkwardness of the moment. He smiled brightly and turned to the short, dark, plump figure beside him. "See, Mr. Popo! I told you they were smart enough to figure out how to get back. And you said they were goners!" "But, Dende," Mr. Popo said, and there was such blatant confusion on the gardener's face that Dende's words were automatically thrown into suspicion. "It was -you- who said..." "Wow. You guys look like shit," Trunks said, breaking into Dende's and Mr. Popo's conversation. "How very observant of you," Piccolo remarked dryly. He shifted on his feet, taking notice of all who were in attendance. Dende was already moving to go help Yamcha, who obviously needed it. Trunks was sitting on a low railing with the youngest Son almost sitting in his lap, while Vegeta stood leaning with his arms crossed in a nearby doorway. And then 18 walked into the room. "18!" Krillin exclaimed excitedly, watching as his lovely wife came striding inside. She was wearing her favorite pair of jeans and a white shirt. It was a plain outfit, but one she enjoyed for the comfort. She pushed her blonde hair out of her face, and there was a familiar quirk to her lips that made the ex-monk nearly weep. "Well, where have you been?" 18 asked, her arms crossed over her chest. She leaned her head down, letting her recently tucked in hair fall forward as she declared, "Marron's been worried sick!" Krillin climbed to his feet, his eyes shining with unshed tears. He didn't care who else was there. HIS 18 was there! And she had obviously been worried about him. He flung his arms open wide and ran to her, burying his face into her abdomen. "Honey! Oh, honey. I love you. I will never, ever, ever leave you ever again. Never!" The cybernetic female grinned softly down as she wrapped her arms around her husband, and for a moment, all was well. But as she looked down into her own reflection, she couldn't help but ask, "What happened to your hair?" Piccolo watched the tender scene for a moment, but was suddenly tackled to the ground by a heavy mass of muscle and over-excited demi-saiyajin. Piccolo grunted as he hit the ground, having been caught completely unaware. Blinking up at the young man who straddled his waist, Piccolo felt his stomach sink down through the floor to the spinning globe beneath. "Mr. Piccolo!" Gohan exclaimed, feeling incredibly light as he sat on his mentor. He didn't even question the fact that Piccolo's clothes were torn and tattered; instead he merely pressed his hands down onto bare patches of green flesh. His smiled brilliantly, and was opening his mouth to further greet the namek when another heavy body hit -him-, causing him to crash into the far wall. The room was quickly illuminated with the flickering light of a very angry super-saiyajin. It took the startled group a moment to realize that the stranger wore a very familiar face. The tail was what threw them, though. Once the newcomer reverted to his normal state, the light died down as Gohan looked up, pure shock on his face as he looked at the curled up tail. Prince Goten stared down at the older demi-saiyajin, and somehow managed to growl elegantly, "Stay away from him." Unobserved by everyone else, Vegeta looked at the newest member to join them. He knew he wasn't the only one suffering from shock. But he was rather certain that his was the only world to come crashing down around their ears. '_He's... He's from my dreams!_' Vegeta's breathing turned ragged as he tore his eyes away from the tailed warrior to look at Yamcha who was being healed by Dende. Could those dreams have been something more? Could they have been... real? "Wow," Trunks sounded, looking at the regal form before him. It -looked- like his Goten. Sort of. But there were also elements of his father. "Yeah..." Goten agreed softly. His eyes were focused solely on the curled up brown tail that seemed to glimmer in the low light. It looked incredibly soft. He had never known what it was like to have a tail. His had been cut off soon after birth, though he still carried the scar from it. The youngest Son couldn't help himself as he took a few quick steps forward and gently grabbed at the furry appendage. "Whoa. It's so--" "ARGH!" Prince Goten screamed, in pain and in outrage. Spinning quickly, he delivered a high kick straight at the other Goten's head, clocking him smartly. Goten flew a few feet away, but Trunks moved faster, catching his lover. Unfortunately, Prince Goten hadn't been holding back, and Trunks misjudged that. They both ended up crashing into a wall, leaving a shallow crater where they impacted. "Don't you EVER touch me again!" The two demi-saiyajins fell out of their crater and crouched onto the ground next to Vegeta. The short saiyajin looked at the two young half-breeds, and the outright indignant expressions on their faces, and couldn't help but laugh at them. Though, if he was honest with himself, he'd also admit that he was in a state of shock himself. But it wasn't for the same reason that the rest of the group was. "You idiots. You should never touch anyone's tail unless they give you permission." "Well, we didn't get to keep ours," Trunks muttered, a bit miffed, as he stood up, holding out his hand to his lover. Prince Goten growled as he spun back around to face off with Gohan again as the elder demi-saiyajin pulled himself out of the rubble. He was about to pounce when Piccolo's soft voice prevented him. And all it took was a single word. "Goten." The prince immediately relaxed, falling out of his fighting stance, and turned to look at the rising Namek. He grinned at the green warrior and responded in a voice filled with relief, "Piccolo." Quirking an eyebrow ridge upwards, Dende looked between the elder namek and the young demi-saiyajin. "I think we missed something here." If the prince was going to say anything more, no one would ever know. The great and fearsome Piccolo opened his arms, and the young prince suddenly found himself in a tight embrace. He couldn't remember Piccolo moving. He couldn't remember moving either, for that matter. He didn't even know how he got there. All he knew was that he had been looking at the large glowing -sun- of energy that his brother had created hurtling forward towards him, and then a bright flash of silver, and then he was in a dark room with a single doorway that led out. He had exited the room, and found a small hallway that he followed until he came upon the scene of Gohan straddling Piccolo. But it didn't matter. Nothing mattered as Piccolo leaned down and gave him a kiss that had his toes curling. "Oh. Now I -know- we missed something here," Dende declared. "Holy shit!" Trunks and Goten exclaimed at the same time, while Gohan was struck speechless. "Wow," 18 remarked. She tilted her head to the side as she watched on, stroking her hand over Krillin's bald head. "They seem to have had lots of practice." Vegeta couldn't help the small giggles of delirium that sprung forth, but was grateful that no one else was taking notice of them. Yamcha saw Vegeta laughing through the mirror, and turned without thinking to hug the shorter male. "Geta!" The full-blooded prince turned to stone in the warm embrace. He had fought the ghost of Yamcha in the human's own home, while embracing the man himself at night. Vegeta was sure of it. And standing there, with the scarred warrior's scent and heat pressed up against him, the proud prince had to do all that he could just to keep from ravishing Yamcha on the spot. Yamcha felt the man in his arms stiffen, so he pulled back and took notice of what this Vegeta was wearing. It was a black business suit with a black satin shirt and tie, definitely -not- the black guard's uniform that his Geta was wearing when last seen. Blushing profusely, Yamcha backed off, raising his arms to his side and trying to apologize. "Oh. I'm sorry, Vegeta. I... thought you were somebody else." "Hn. I'm sure you did," Vegeta managed to remark, though it came out a bit strained. He watched with hooded eyes as the human slowly backed away from him, allowing him the opportunity to regain -some- control, if not all. He grimaced slightly as he shifted his weight to the other foot, wishing he could shift his already hardening sex into a more comfortable position while knowing that there wasn't one. He doubted he would ever be in complete control of himself around the human ever again. Yamcha didn't hear the retort, though. He was too busy looking around. Normally, he would have been a bit flustered around Vegeta. But that was before he had found Geta and fallen in love with him. '_But where is he?_' He saw Piccolo and Prince Goten holding onto each other. And he could see Krillin holding onto his 18. But he didn't see Geta anywhere. "Hey! Has anyone seen Geta?" Krillin poked his head out from where he had buried it and looked around the room. He didn't see the wayward guard either. He noticed Yamcha heading his way, so Krillin released his hold on his wife. He grinned as her arms slid away from him, and he was reminded all over again of how much he missed her. "Dude. I haven't seen him since we were on the other side of the mirror, when Piccolo first started fighting Gohan." "Piccolo... fighting Gohan?" 18 asked, but Krillin gave her a look that said he would explain everything later, which caused her to quiet down. "He had to have come across with us," Yamcha muttered, anxiety washing through him. He was still unable to locate his lover as he looked around the room, and out onto the veranda beyond. He couldn't even sense Geta's chi. He grew increasingly worried. "Oh, man... Piccolo!" The Demon Lord moaned softly as he had to break the kiss, but he could practically feel Yamcha's fear radiating out towards him. In his arms, Prince Goten leaned forward, gasping for breath. Piccolo knew that the other three demi-saiyajins were still watching them, but he didn't care. He had -his- Goten in -his- arms, and he felt like celebrating. But, he was also aware that he wasn't the only one who was home. "What is it, Yamcha?" The scarred human approached the two, continuing to scan the area for his lover. In the back of his mind, he noticed Piccolo release Prince Goten and moved to meet him halfway while also granting the prince time to regain his composure. Licking his lips, Yamcha asked nervously, "Have you seen Geta? Do you know if he came through?" "I don't know," Piccolo replied, trying to recall the events prior to their leaving. He shook his head as he continued, "I was fighting. I didn't see." "Dammit!" Yamcha cursed as he turned around, clearly panicked. He ran a hand through his hair anxiously as he tried to think. But he couldn't form any coherent thoughts other than that his Geta was missing. "What the hell happened to him?" There were no answers forthcoming. In his reckless fear, Yamcha grabbed at Prince Goten, the only other person who had been there, and demanded to know, "What happened to him? Did you see?" "I know what happened to him. I did see." Prince Goten's eyes turned sad, remembering the guard's last words, and his tail flicked behind him before dropping low. He leaned in forward, placing his hands on the human's shoulders, and explained what he had seen in a tone of voice that not even Piccolo was able to overhear. His grip on Yamcha's shoulders helped the prince guide the human's eventual collapse. "No... No..." Yamcha whispered, pulling his knees up and burying his face in his hands. "You're wrong. You've got to be wrong." "I am not," Prince Goten replied, his tail lashing out behind him at the very thought that he could have been in error. No one had questioned him in ages. Well, no one other than Piccolo. But that was different. Krillin looked at the huddled form on the floor, and then at the gathered crowd. This was not the place or the time. He walked over to his friend and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Hey... Yamcha..." The one time bandit choked on his own breath, trying to keep himself under control. He bit his lower lip against the pain and shook his head. This wasn't a battle he was going to win. "I... I want to go home." Krillin nodded and was a bit taken aback by Vegeta stepping forward, as if he were about to pick Yamcha up and carry him off. "I'll take him." 18 was the one who offered up a plausible explanation, however. "Vegeta's been staying in Yamcha's condo." "Oh, um... I don't think that would be such a good idea, then," Krillin muttered, rubbing his hand over his friend's back. "Hey, Yamcha, why don't you come home with us? Just for a little while. We'll sort everything else out later, okay?" Yamcha wasn't listening, though. He merely nodded his head and, like a child, was easily led away. Vegeta watched them leave and continued to watch until there wasn't even a ghost of their passing. His insides were twisted in unimaginable ways, and it frightened him. He wanted Yamcha; there was no denying that. But... there was more to it than that. The look in the human's eyes, so lost and alone, had him wanting to -protect- the human. He hadn't even felt that over Bulma, and they had shared a bed for many years. Hell, she had even sired him a child. This was the same human he had killed when he first arrived to earth! The irony left a bitter taste in Vegeta's mouth. With a sigh of frustration, directed at only himself, the last pureblooded saiyajin returned to the drama playing out in front of him. "Well," Trunks mumbled, clearing his throat as he stepped forward. "That was uncomfortable." "And -that- was inappropriate," Prince Goten snapped, glaring at the bulky, lavender-haired youth. It was definitely Trunks, but this one was different. That didn't mean he had any respect for the elder demi-saiyajin, though. It just meant that he'd have to learn new rules. "Have you no respect for your friends?" "I have respect for my friends," Trunks retorted, tossing his head to throw out some of his longer bangs out of his eyes. He wanted to get a good look at this tailed warrior. "Could've fooled me," Prince Goten replied acerbically. "All right, then," spoke Trunks loudly. All eyes turned to him, but he had eyes only for the vision in front of him. "Who are you?" Prince Goten smirked slightly, tilting his head in such a manner as to use the shadows and tricks of light to their utmost usefulness. "I am Prince Goten." "I'm a prince," Goten grinned, giggling a bit. "Check it out. Prince Me. Heh." "Are you equating yourself with me?" the prince scoffed. He moved forward then, inspecting this 'regular' version of himself, taking in the sights and smells. Noting the baggy jeans, the tight t-shirt, the shaggy hair. Sniffing. Realizing this other 'him' was more muscular and slightly shorter; he also slouched, which made him appear all the shorter. After circling around the other male, he took a step back and clasped his hands behind his back just above his tail. Lifting his nose slightly, he stated, "You slouch, your clothing is sloppy and ill-fitting, your hair is unkempt and unwashed, and you reek of sex and dirt. You actually have dirt on your face, did you know? What exactly were you doing before you came here? No. Don't answer that. Allow me to rephrase. Appearing as you do, you think we're the same? You must be kidding." Off to the side, from where he had chosen to watch the proceedings, Vegeta laughed outright at this new version of Goten. Dende did his best to hide his soft snickering, but Piccolo merely chuckled darkly. Trunks looked at all of them indignantly, offended on behalf of his lover. "Dad!" "What?" Vegeta called back, continuing to laugh. "He's just being honest." The elder man's laughter called Prince Goten's attention to him, and the demi-saiyajin rounded on him. His tail curled around his waist as he practically stalked around the full-blooded saiyajin. At the menacing steps the youth used, Vegeta's laughter died down, though he remained amused. "Do you want to try me, brat?" Goten looked at this version of Vegeta, noticing how he carried himself and what he was wearing. He stood tall and proud, his head held high. And though he stood a full head shorter than Prince Goten, there was something to him that wasn't there in his alternate self. A sense of... command. Pride. Power. Goten wasn't sure, but he knew that this Vegeta wasn't one to bow down to anything. Or to anyone. "You're acceptable." Then smirking, he added, "Still really short." Vegeta jerked back at the mockery, about to retort using his fist, when he heard his son snickering, "What, Dad? He's only being honest." Piccolo laughed at that, shaking his head. "Goten, come here." Goten nearly complied, but was restrained by his royal alternate. "He means -me-, idiot." "You know," Dende piped in, a slight quaver of uncertainty in his voice, "we're really going to have to decide what to call them. I mean, there can't be TWO Goten's. I may be a Kami... but that'd confuse even me." "Oh," Goten said as he looked slightly upwards to the dark brown eyes assessing him. He grinned, trying to be friendly with the prince, but he didn't think that his other self was going to be all that amiable. With a laugh he said, "Why not everyone just call me 'Chibi'? I mean, Trunks already does." Prince Goten stared at his other self in mute horror for a moment before turning to walk towards his lover. Under his breath, he muttered, "Apparently, there are other size differences aside from our heights." Vegeta snickered at that, having better than average hearing. He looked over at Piccolo and saw the namek's own mischievous grin. Smirking, Vegeta's gaze landed on Gohan. The most powerful warrior among them was staring in almost open-mouthed stupefaction as Piccolo embraced Prince Goten again. Vegeta caught the elder demi-saiyajin's eye, and there was a silent message shared. '_So, what are you going to do now, Gohan?_' Gohan blinked his eyes and then shook his head. He couldn't believe it. He just couldn't believe it. His Piccolo was with someone else! Granted, there wasn't any reason for Piccolo -NOT- to be with someone else. It was just... Gohan had always thought that that would never happen. He had always thought that Piccolo would remain perfect. Untouched. Chaste. For him. But, Gohan knew his eyes weren't playing tricks on him. And he knew that Piccolo deserved to be with someone, someone who made him happy. And it seemed that that someone was Prince Goten. What possessed him, he wasn't sure, but Gohan suddenly found himself moving forward towards the two. He was quite aware of Goten's soft growl of warning, but instead of offering a fight, Gohan managed to smile. He was surprised by how even his voice was when said, "Hi. I'm Gohan." "I know who you are," Goten replied, his voice betraying none of what he was secretly thinking or feeling. He gave his brother's doppelganger the same kind of inspection that he had given Vegeta, only he didn't bother to leave Piccolo's side. He took notice that this Gohan was a bit shorter than his brother but bulkier. He was dressed in a black fighting suit with a green jacket and white boots and belt. And his hair was cut in a different style. He also didn't have an obnoxious tail. Then again, none of them had tails. But, as he looked at this version of Gohan, he felt no kind of jealous rage. And he didn't feel that much power radiating off of him, either. Of course, that didn't mean anything. Goten knew for a fact that Piccolo and the others could mask their chi, so why not everyone else? Goten narrowed his eyes as he took notice of every minute detail of the elder demi-saiyajin. He stared for longer than was decent, waiting for Gohan to say something else, but he didn't. He remained quiet. That fact did not bother the prince. He merely took the opportunity to -look- at him. To study him. And to judge for himself. Gohan was jealous. But at the same time, he was a bit... hurt. That confused the prince. How could Gohan be jealous and hurt and not be raging at the same time? It didn't make any sense! "Well," he began but paused. Gohan squirmed under the intense gaze of the tailed prince. He thought he rather understood what a small creature felt like as it lay under the unflinching gaze of a microscope. Turning to look at Piccolo, he found that his bravado was quickly evaporating. He just could not deal with this right now. So, instead of trying to come up with some more inane conversation, as he knew that would just annoy Goten, he decided that it was perhaps time to leave. Simply nodding to both of them as he kept his eyes lowered to the floor, Gohan swiftly moved away from the scene. Chibi and Trunks watched as Gohan left the Look-out. They were about to try and talk with Goten again but suddenly felt a strong hand gripping them by the collar and dragging them towards the edge of the Look-out veranda. Vegeta shoved them to the exit, snapping at them, "Don't you two have some place better to be? You can give your apologies tomorrow." "But, Dad! You told us that we had to make them tonight!" Trunks said as he hovered in the air. "And that's the reason you came. And I quote, 'Just to make sure you two don't fuck it up'." "Well... I lied. You can do it tomorrow. No, you -WILL- do it tomorrow," Vegeta snapped, jumping into the air. At the look he gave the two demi-saiyajin's, they immediately turned to face the earth and sped out of sight. Before he did likewise, the full-blooded saiyajin turned to look over his shoulder. The two royals made eye contact for only the briefest of moments, but it was long enough for Vegeta to warn him, '_Tomorrow._' "You must be exhausted," Mr. Popo suddenly spoke. "Is there anything you'd like before you retire for the night?" "That's all right, Mr. Popo," Piccolo answered, nodding his head in the shorter man's direction. "We'll be fine." "As you say," Mr. Popo responded, bowing before he turned and began to walk with Dende away from the two. "Then we shall leave you for the night." "Good night, Piccolo! Good night, Prince Goten!" Dende said, turning around so that he could wave over his shoulders before he was led around a curve and out of sight. Piccolo brought a hand up to brush a lock of hair off Goten's forehead. Giving him a small smile, he asked, "Shall we?" "Where are we going?" Goten asked quietly, leaning forward, reluctant to move at all. He knew he needed a bath. He was filthy. But... it was so nice where he was. They were finally alone again. Goten took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the larger warrior before releasing it with a soft sigh. He could feel his aches and pains slowly beginning to demand his attention. "My room," Piccolo replied. He smiled softly. He was going to have his lover in his bed tonight. In -HIS- bed. For the first time in his life, Piccolo wondered about his room. What would Goten think of it? It certainly wasn't the palace... "You live here?" Goten asked, drawing back. He looked around at the structure they were in, and thought that it seemed rather... open. No place for proper defense. "Yes. Is something wrong?" Piccolo wondered. He had barely turned to lead in the right direction before he had come to a stop at the tone in Goten's voice. It wasn't one he was used to. "No," Goten started, turning to follow Piccolo. He yawned slightly, testimony to how very tired he was. He grinned as he stood next to the taller male. His tail swung through the air before wrapping around Piccolo's wrist. "No. I just... didn't know." Piccolo nodded once, rubbing his thumb lightly over the captured tail in his hand. They walked together towards one of the outer structures, one connected only by a single, narrow pathway. As they reached the doors, Piccolo paused. He looked at the door, and then at Goten. They were home. *** Yamcha stepped into the dark room. He didn't see the stacks of books lying around, or the overflowing CD towers, or the various posters that littered the walls. He didn't see anything other than the window that overlooked the yellow comforter of the small single-bed. He didn't even bother to pull off his grimy clothes. All he wanted to do was sleep. Sleep forever and never wake up. The tall warrior collapsed onto the bed. He pulled the pillow to him, burying his face. It was a small bed, but it seemed huge to him. And foreign. And he felt so utterly alone. Yamcha began to cry into the captured pillow, sobbing in jagged spasms. In a fit of useless anger, he began to hit the mattress, though it did no harm. Tiring himself out quickly, Yamcha had just fallen asleep when the first rays of the new year were peeking through the bedroom window. *** "Seriously. Excuse the language, but," said Krillin to his audience, Mr. Popo and Dende, "can you believe that shit?" "Can he believe what shit?" came a gravely voice from behind the short human. "Don't -do- that, Piccolo!" Krillin exclaimed, jumping up and grabbing at his heart. "Give a man some warning next time, huh? Sheesh. But what I was saying was... While we were gone, Vegeta opened a bar. Like a drinking bar. With actual customers! I mean, people -pay- to drink at a -bar- owned by -Vegeta-. And on top of that, he hired my bro-in-law as a disc jockey AND my -wife- to manage the friggin' place! Can you fucking believe that?! Um, excuse the language again, Mr. Popo, Dende." "Vegeta owns a bar?" Piccolo asked. "When did he venture out on his own?" "Bulma kicked him out," Krillin smirked. "Oh." "That's also why he's living at Yamcha's condo," added the former monk. "I swear, this world? It went nuts while we were gone. Absolutely nuts." "And to think your arrival in my world only brought chaos. Trade off, I suppose," Goten finally said, seating himself on a bench next to Piccolo. He wanted to question the fact that Vegeta had been living with Mistress Bulma, but he thought that perhaps he should do that later. In private. When he could ask Piccolo more questions. Goten was dressed in a clean version of his outfit from the previous day, thanks to Piccolo. His dark hair was still slightly damp from his recent shower. He was still amazed at Piccolo's room. It was -huge-, and the bathroom was in equal proportion to it. The bathtub itself was larger than some beds the prince had seen. But it did offer some interesting ideas for later 'recreational activities'. The prince could see a few problems with the room, like the fact that it was so easily accessible by everyone else, but it was Piccolo's so he wasn't going to say anything to him about it. For now. Piccolo placed his hand behind the demi-saiyajin, absent-mindedly stroking his tail. He grinned as he felt Goten lean against him. "So what are you doing here, Krillin?" "I dunno," he shrugged, noticing how very relaxed Piccolo was. He doubted he had ever seen Piccolo relaxed, and here he was... just chilling with his... '_What exactly do I call him? Boyfriend, I guess. Weird thinking of -Piccolo- with a -boyfriend-_.' It was strange. But it was strange in a good way. "Mr. Popo here just dropped by and asked me to come back with him to the Look-out. So I did. I'm... just... kinda waiting to see what's going on." The tall namek turned his gaze to the rotund figure standing opposite him, asking pointedly, "What's going on?" Mr. Popo didn't get a chance to answer as Vegeta, Trunks, and Chibi suddenly popped over the edge of the Look-out and landed not far from them. The two younger males were both in jeans, but while Chibi wore a simple t-shirt, Trunks wore a nice dressy button-up shirt. Vegeta wore his regular day attire of a training outfit, looking haggard with dark circles under his eyes, as if he hadn't gotten any sleep in days. In truth, he'd had a very fitful sleep the previous night. But this time, it wasn't because of the dreams. It was because he knew they were real. "Well, weren't you busy this morning," Piccolo stated flatly to the d'jinn. "I didn't ask--" Mr. Popo began hesitantly, raising a dark hand up towards his face, as if to hide a mistake. Vegeta cut Mr. Popo off. "The brats have to apologize. I'm just supervising." "What do they have to apologize for?" Krillin asked. "For the whole mirror thing," answered Trunks. Sliding his hands into his pockets and trying to look anywhere but at the demi-saiyajin sitting next to Piccolo, he huffed. "We're sorry. We didn't mean to get you guys stuck in the other place, wherever it was. And we don't know what happened, even though we asked the dragon..." "You what?" Vegeta interrupted. He knew he sounded suspicious of them, but after almost a full year of getting hardly any sleep, he rather felt entitled to be more short-tempered than usual. "Um, we got the dragonballs, and-and... you know... made wishes," Chibi supplied. "What wishes?" demanded the older but shorter male. He'd known the dragon had been summoned. He'd known wishes had been made. He even vaguely recalled them having to do something with knowing how the three fighters were doing. But details... The details were missing. "Dragonballs? Wishes? What?" Goten queried softly to Piccolo. "Long story. I'll explain later," assured the namek, taking Goten's nod as acceptance. "We, um... used the dragonball radar thingy, and um... got the dragonballs," Chibi continued to explain, clearly uncomfortable at being put on the spot. He looked between Vegeta, Piccolo, and Goten, and then to the floor where he toed the ground. "And we summoned the dragon and asked him if we could wish you guys back or something, but he was all, 'Hell no'. Well, no, he didn't say that -exactly-, but that was the gist. Um, anyway, so, like, then we didn't know really what to wish for, so Trunks was like, 'Huh. I wish we knew what to wish for'..." "Oh, my Kami, you didn't," Krillin snickered, though he knew it was something that Trunks would do. Well, this version of Trunks, at any rate. "Well, it was an accident," Trunks tried to defend himself. Instead, he ended up with a hard cuff on the back of his head by Vegeta. "Ow. Sheesh." "Um, so, then," spoke up Chibi again over the laughter of the small gathering, "of course we knew what to wish for, so we wished that one of the gang would know what was going on there to know how you guys were doing. But... we weren't specific, and... um... I... well, we didn't know who knew what was going on or how. And we still don't because nobody we knew said anything about knowing how you guys were doing. We told everybody about the wish. Well, not about the first wish... But about the second wish." "Why weren't you specific?" inquired Krillin, still laughing heartily as he wiped a tear from his eyes. Trunks thought that over for a moment. "I guess we weren't really thinking." "You're never thinking. Who made the wish?" Vegeta demanded sharply. He suddenly had a pounding headache. "-Who-!" "Me, me! I did!" responded a very flustered Trunks. "You're dead, boy," the saiyajin growled, lunging for his son. As Vegeta started chasing Trunks around, with Chibi trying to break it up, the other five just sat there and watched. Krillin busted out laughing all over again, his stomach muscles becoming sore. A little confused by the proceedings, Mr. Popo and Dende remained silent, standing off to the side as usual, watching the flight of the three. On the other hand, Piccolo looked highly amused, his trademark smirk in place, while he still petted Goten's tail, whose owner's face wore an expression that could only be described as skeptical. To put it mildly, Goten seriously questioned the sanity of the people in this dimension. '_They're all crazy._' "100 zeni says Vegeta was the recipient of the second wish," Dende said in a half whisper, leaning toward his gardener. "No bet," replied Mr. Popo. He turned from the scene before him to look at the young Kami beside him. "That is quite obvious, Dende." "You're no fun," the small namek sighed. "You never take my bets." "Because you always bet on sure-things." "Hmmph," Dende grunted, crossing his arms over his chest. Goten rested his chin on Piccolo's shoulder, still watching the chase scene. In a half-joking, half-serious tone, he queried, "Are things like this a common occurrence around here? Trying to kill one's own offspring, I mean." "Not really. Vegeta just has a bad temper," Piccolo answered. "He won't really kill Trunks. Although... that boy does deserve a good kick in the rear fairly often." "Now, -that- I believe," smirked his companion, looking at the lavender-haired youth. He knew for a fact that this version of Trunks was nowhere near as beaten down as his version. That was blatantly clear. But it was also obvious, just from the two meetings, the boy was very good at getting into trouble for being too obtuse to realize he was out of his depth. All at once, Vegeta finally caught Trunks by the back of his shirt as he tried to dodge around a large fern and delivered a swift kick to his backside. "You're to blame, you little--" "You knew!" Chibi suddenly proclaimed, stopping his own chase of the older man. He was silenced for a moment as he was forced to catch his lover as Vegeta tossed Trunks at him. "You were the one who got the second wish! How come you didn't tell us what was going on?" "I ought to wring -both- of your necks," Vegeta spat, looking between the two youths. Krillin piped up then. "Hey, wait, wait, wait. Vegeta... Did you see... -everything-?" "It's none of your business what I know," snapped the saiyajin, stalking back towards them. "Well, no, no," conceded the short human, "but... It -would- be cool to know... you know... -how- it worked. Yeah." "I'm not telling you shit," Vegeta snarled, crossing his arms defensively. There was no way he was telling -anybody- how that wish had worked out. No way this side of hell. And even if he was sent to hell again, it was highly doubtful that he'd tell even then. Turning to Piccolo, Krillin frowned. "You know, I liked the other Vegeta so much better. He was kind of sad but not quite the asshole our Vegeta is." "Do you -want- to die?!" Vegeta screamed, falling into a fighting stance. "No, thanks. Not today," grinned the human. Piccolo cleared his throat then, calling attention to himself easily. "All right. Trunks. Go--er... What are we calling you again?" "Chibi," answered the demi-saiyajin in question. "Right. Chibi. You've apologized. That's great. Whatever. But... Mr. Popo actually called a meeting," Piccolo stated. "Oh, should we leave?" Chibi asked, pulling Trunks up to his feet. "No, no," replied Mr. Popo. "You may stay if you'd like. I only wanted to converse about the mirror. My people have long studied it, and I wished to gather more information." "Cool!" the two standing demi-saiyajins chimed. They quickly sat on the floor next to Krillin, looking up at the dark-skinned d'jinn. Vegeta, opting to stay as well, merely folded his arms over his chest and leaned against a well-pruned tree near Piccolo and Goten. "So, where do you want to start?" Krillin asked, looking around to make sure the device in question wasn't anywhere near him. Not that he was afraid of it or anything, as he knew it wouldn't work until New Year's Eve, but that didn't mean he wasn't cautious. "How did your people learn about all this stuff? And where are the rest of your people?" inquired the lavender-haired demi-saiyajin. "I mean, can I ask that?" "Ah. History lessons," the ex-monk noted. "History lessons are good." Mr. Popo stepped back a bit and sat down on the short stairs behind him. "My people are spread throughout the universe. We're wanderers, but we originated here. I am the last of my kind on this planet, as I was to keep the mirror safe. Many millennia ago, my ancestors stumbled upon the mirror and inadvertently discovered its properties. Hence began their studies of it and use of it." "Nifty," breathed Chibi. He leaned over until his head was resting on Trunks' thigh. He always did get sleepy around story time. "So tell us about the mirror. How does it work and stuff?" "The mirror has many forms and many names, but the Mirror of Janus is its most common name," the d'jinn said. "To use it, one must look upon it precisely at midnight between the years. It is that precise moment when there is no specific time and walls between universes are traversable. If you look upon the mirror at that moment, you will be transported to the place that fulfills you inner-most desire." Trunks's nose crinkled as he glanced over at Piccolo and Goten on the bench. There was a sudden spike of pride and jealousy as he looked at how Goten responded to the green warrior. "So, you mean, all this time... Piccolo's been wanting to hook up with Chibi?" A few eyebrows and eyebrow ridges raised at that, except Krillin, who shook his head at that, understanding that Goten was -NOT- anything like Chibi. "No, I didn't, I swear," Piccolo insisted, pulling Goten closer to him at the same time. "I'm afraid you mistook me, young Trunks," Mr. Popo clarified. "The inner-most desire is usually one's foremost subconscious thought. The mirror recognizes that and transports the person to a place that would satisfy that craving. The odd part of this use of the mirror is that Piccolo, Krillin, and Yamcha all visited the same universe together, meaning they must have all had the same subconscious thought. It is very rare occurrence, indeed." "What were you thinking?" Trunks queried, suspicious, still looking at Piccolo. "I was bored," answered both Piccolo and Krillin in unison. Krillin sighed as he leaned back on his hands. Looking at the two demi-saiyajins next to him, he shrugged at Chibi's confused face. "Well, that explains that," Dende shrugged. "Everyone's bored. It's the problem with this planet. This whole world is bored." "Dende," interrupted the taller namek, "save your rant for later." "Fine. Sheesh." "Is he...? I was wondering," Goten began, turning to look at his lover, "is he your son? It's not that... You don't -really- look alike, but the way you talk to him..." Piccolo looked like he might faint. Dende, on the other hand, was laughing his Kami rear off. "That's rich!" he laughed. "Piccolo my father! Ha HA! I'd rather have Vegeta for a father!" Vegeta blinked. He looked at Piccolo, and then at Trunks. "I don't know if that's compliment or an insult." "No. I am most definitely not that brat's sire," scowled the namek. "Stop laughing, Dende." Dende snickered still but ceased to guffaw. "Fine, fine. Ruin my fun." "Hey, hey, let's get back on topic here. What about the return home?" Krillin then asked. "I mean, I can honestly say I was thinking, 'Oh, shit, we're gonna die' because, you know, evil, evil Prince Gohan was about to blow the Look-out to kingdom come." "Subconscious thought," Piccolo mused aloud. He remembered his despair at the thought of failing to get home, the thought of failing to get them all home. He had been the responsible one, after all. They depended on him. "Underneath it all, I was thinking 'home'." "I wasn't thinking about my home," Goten said. "I was thinking about Piccolo." "I think I'm going to throw up," snorted Vegeta mockingly. "Well, 'home' is a state of mind, but I will not expand on that as I do not wish for Vegeta to destroy my azaleas," Mr. Pope interjected. Krillin breathed a deep sigh of relief. "Man, I don't care just so long as I'm home. And you know, that Prince Gohan won't be coming to look for our asses since I'm pretty sure that mirror was toast." "What did you say?" asked the d'jinn, his face contorted with perplexity. "I don't care as long as I'm home?" Krillin asked, his head tilted to the side, as if to say, '_Well, who wouldn't be glad to be back home?_' "No. After that." "I'm also glad Prince Gohan won't be coming after us since I think he destroyed that mirror?" "He destroyed the mirror? Are you sure?" Mr. Popo asked, standing up. Krillin scratched his still bald head. "Well, he was kinda blowing the Look-out to smithereens, and the mirror was -on- the Look-out, so yeah, I'm pretty damn sure the mirror is gone." "As is that universe," Mr. Popo sighed sadly, shaking his head as he wrung his hands. "Excuse me?" Goten said, his attention sharpened, and focused on the dark figure. "What do you mean?" "A universe only exists as long as the mirror itself exists within it," explained Mr. Popo. "If the mirror of that universe is gone, then so is the universe." "Oh, that sucks," Chibi sounded. His eyes wandered over to the other version of himself leaning against Piccolo. "So, um, you could never go back, huh?" "Why would I want to?" returned Goten, honestly curious. At that moment, with Piccolo's warmth pressed against him, and Piccolo's hand petting his tail, he couldn't think of a single reason why he would want to return. He understood then, how difficult it was for Piccolo to know he had to return, and to follow through with it. It was as hard as it had been for him, to let him leave. "Um... It's where you're from? It's your home?" Trunks elaborated, waving his hands for emphasis. He kept his eyes on the prince, studying how his body moved. He somewhat reminded the demi-saiyajin of his father, on the rare occasions he had seen his father relaxed enough to lounge anywhere. "I am home," he responded, rubbing his cheek against Piccolo unconsciously. He felt so content, not caring what anyone thought and not -having- to care about what anyone thought or what was proper. Those rules didn't apply here. "Wherever Piccolo is... That's home." "Stop it. Please," Vegeta nearly pleaded, rolling his eyes in annoyance. "The warm and fuzzy feelings are killing me. Or maybe I should just kill you." "Touch him and die, runt," Piccolo stated in a warning growl, looking over Goten's head to stare at the shorter male. "Wouldn't dream of it," Vegeta retorted, his lip curled slightly. He respected Piccolo. He even liked him. Somewhat. But that didn't mean he wouldn't still antagonize him when the opportunity presented itself to him. Besides, it was fun to tease the green warrior. "What else do you need to know?" asked the short human, directing attention back to Mr. Popo. It was time to get back on task because he knew he had places to be. Or rather, he wanted to get back home. He had to do things. See his wife. Make sure Yamcha was okay. The small things. The important things. "I mean, did you have any specific questions for us in mind?" "Tell me about the mirror itself," Mr. Popo answered. "What did it look like in that universe?" "It was a bigass rectangle," Krillin said as he thought aloud. He didn't really know what the dark gardener was expecting, so he tried to think of what he wanted to know. "At first, I was like, 'Holy crap, this isn't the right mirror' because it didn't look like the mirror we have here." "That was the only difference?" "No. Um... It was as big as Piccolo, I think," he explained. "I dunno. I've kinda got an off point of view. Height thing and all, you know. What else though? It was silver. Oh, and it had little writings on it, but we couldn't read them. You said it was the history of the mirror, but I don't really know 'cause I couldn't read it." The d'jinn's eyes grew wide. As far as he knew, this was the first time he had ever been in an alternate universe. "-I- said it?" "Oh, I guess we forgot to mention that, huh?" Krillin grinned. "Yeah. The Mr. Popo in that universe -- who looked nothing like you, by the way -- had the mirror. He'd been keeping it for Kami knows how many years." "How did you find him?" inquired Mr. Popo. "He found us," the small bald man answered. "Tracked us down at Lord Crappalot's big martial arts tournament. Told us about the mirror and all that. Gave us instructions on where to go when the time was right and stuff. Really informative little fella." "Little?" Mr. Popo asked, leaning back involuntarily. Yet another shock! "Mr. Popo was -little-?" Dende snickered as he looked at his rotund keeper. Krillin chuckled. "Like I said, he looked nothing like you, man. I think he'd been starving himself in the desert for a few decades, hiding out from the Big Bad and hanging onto that mirror. I think that mirror was his -life-, what with Kami dead and all." "Did you just call my father 'Lord Crappalot'?" Goten frowned slightly as he leaned away from Piccolo. "Kami was dead again?" asked the d'jinn. He couldn't help the slight quaver in his voice at the mere mention of the previous guardian of earth. "Aw, man," sighed the human. "It's all a really long story. And, um, sorry about the 'Lord Crappalot' bit, Goten. He just seemed kind of... like he was a crappy emperor. And it rhymed a little." "No. He was not the best ruler," Goten admitted then smirked. In honesty, he hadn't been paying that close attention to the conversation. He was much more intent on Piccolo's hand touching his tail. Touching his tail in public! Which, he admitted, felt nice, but it was still distracting. He wasn't used to any kind of public displays of affection. "I was just making sure I heard you right." "This is all -so- much to absorb," mumbled Trunks finally. "I mean, we're talking, like, an entire universe's history here. And it's all like crazy and changed and different. You know what I'd like to know? What the turning points were. Like, what made that place different?" "I would also like to know that," Mr. Popo nodded. "Goku," stated Piccolo without hesitation. Truthfully, he had thought enough on it that it came to him automatically. "That universe was changed entirely because Goku never existed there. Kakarrot did." "Freaky demons," Chibi whispered. "But wait. Some things stayed the same right? I mean, hey, there's proof right next to you. So that means Mom and Dad still got together and had a Gohan and a Goten." Piccolo shook his head. "I won't go into the details now, but it's not at all like you think. You're better off not knowing." "Kami, that place sucked," Krillin said, shaking his head and heaving a deep sigh. "No offense, Goten." "I'm -here-, aren't I?" the demi-saiyajin returned. "Good point." The ex-monk stretched out on the tiles of the Look-out and gazed over at Mr. Popo, yawning a bit. "Anything else, my good man?" "For now, no," answered the dark-skinned man. "If I have any more questions, I'm sure I could ask Piccolo or Prince Goten." "Okay, then." Dusting himself off, Krillin stood up from his seat on the floor. He was in an old pair of khaki pants, and he loved it. Loved that they were his, pulled out of his closet, washed by his wife. Loved just wearing them! He knew he wouldn't take anything that he had for granted again. Ever. "Well, if that's it, then I gotta get back home." "Speaking of that," Goten interjected as he sat up, "how is Yamcha?" "He's okay," nodded the human. His voice was quiet as he spoke of his long time friend, out of respect and a little bit out of concern. "A little out of it... but okay." "What happened to him, anyway?" Trunks asked. "Embarrassing moments aside, what was he going on about last night? I didn't understand." "That's because it's none of your business," spat Goten. He knew that Trunks was only seeking information, but the boy went about it so crudely. And he knew his own response was a bit quick, but he felt somewhat responsible for the human, as if he was the reason Yamcha was in the state he was in. Though he knew he wasn't, that didn't matter. "If he wants you to know, I'm sure he'll tell you when he's ready. But until then, why don't you keep your ignorance to yourself instead of waving it around for everyone to see?" "Hey!" Trunks exclaimed, putting his hands in the air as if to surrender. "Goten," Piccolo scolded a bit even though it was clear he was trying very hard not to laugh. Vegeta nodded as he considered Goten. '_Smart boy. Obviously a prince. Exactly the right attitude. Reminds me a little of myself. And we can always use more saiyajins around. Well... One good thing came out of this debacle._' Sighing, his thoughts turned over to Yamcha. '_Maybe I can make it two._' Krillin waved to everyone as he moved away from them. "I'm off. Call me if you need me." "I'm leaving as well," Vegeta announced. "Come along, brats." "Actually, we kind of wanted to stick around and see if Piccolo and Goten would tell us about the other universe," Trunks said. Turning to the two seated individuals, he continued, "That is, if you don't mind." Goten shrugged before he returned to his position against Piccolo again. "That's fine. Whatever." Vegeta accompanied Krillin to the edge of the Look-out when he grabbed the shorter man's arm to stop him. "Is he really all right? Yamcha." Krillin regarded the saiyajin for a minute. The proud prince seemed to be... different. More mellow, in his own way. Still a bit high strung, but he was reacting strange. He realized Vegeta did know what happened in the other dimension, but it was plain that he had not seen the very last day. Knowing that, the human offered him a little extra information. "Not really. He's grieving. I think he's freaked out by what happened." Vegeta blinked, releasing the arm he held. He turned to look around, as if trying to see something that wasn't there. He didn't like asking things. He'd rather just -know- them. But he also realized that asking was the only way he would get anywhere in this situation. "Is there anything I can do?" "Don't let him see you for a while," Krillin suggested quietly, looking at the saiyajin. This truly was a different Vegeta. It must have been a subtle change, as no one else seemed to have picked up on it yet. Krillin didn't know if that was a good thing or not, but he knew that no matter what, Yamcha didn't need to know. "I don't think he could take it." Vegeta nodded, watching Krillin leap into the clouds surrounding the Look-out. His heart felt heavy in his chest, but he didn't know what else to do. Jumping off the edge, he plummeted straight down, letting the natural air currents pick him back up before settling into flight. Deep down, he began to realize it was going to take a miracle to make a good thing out of what he had figured out to be a travesty. Randomly blowing up rocks and trees on his way home didn't make him feel any better, either. No amount of destruction really cleared his mind of the miracle he knew it'd take. At least he did come to a conclusion. '_I'm the prince of all saiyajins. If anyone can do this, I can._'   



	27. Tough Love

_Disclaimer- Hear ye, hear ye. That means take notes. We, being the parties of Summer Starr and Deani Bean, do hereby state that neither of us own Dragonball Z, and should we ever lay claim to such a marvelous creation, you would discover an entirely new ending to the show, one we think the characters deserve more. That means we don't own it, and if we did, this fanfic would become the better-than-real-life version of its finale._

_Warnings- If you haven't figured it out by now, there's a lot of yaoi goodness. Lots of HOTT guys loving other HOTT guys. Lots of angst and humor and drama and random acts of insanity and... other plot devices._ **Kingdom Come**  
~ Chapter 27 Vegeta growled in aggravation as he stomped through the apartment. A small, dark towel was wrapped tightly around his trim waist, catching droplets of water as they slid down his tanned torso. No sooner had he finished his mid-morning shower than had the telephone rung, and since he was expecting a call from one of his club's suppliers, he rushed to get the phone. "Hello," he answered it sharply. "Vegeta? Hey, it's Krillin," came the reply on the other end of the line. To say this wasn't the call he expected would be an understatement. In fact, despite wanting to know how Yamcha was, he didn't really want to talk to the former monk. If Krillin was calling him, then something had to be wrong. No one ever called him unless that was the case. Well, no one that wasn't a business associate. "Hn. What do you want?" "You... uh... You haven't seen Yamcha, have you?" Krillin asked. "I mean, he hasn't come by the condo or anything, right?" "No. He's not here. Why?" The small human chuckled nervously. "Well, um, are you going to be there for a while?" "I don't know. Why? What's happened?" Vegeta inquired hotly. "Well, would you mind staying there for a bit? And if he comes by, just keep him there and let me know, okay?" "Human, tell me what the hell is going on!" demanded the saiyajin. "Okay, okay. Sheesh! Just calm down, huh?" Krillin suggested. Sighing raggedly, he complied with Vegeta's request. "Look. He's gone. Ran away or something. I dunno. I just woke up this morning and went in to bring him some breakfast, and he was gone. I thought he might've decided to go back to his place, and since you're there, that's why I called you. But since he isn't there, I'm going to get some of the rest of the gang together and go looking for him. I just wanted to ask if you'd watch for him in case he does show up back at his place. Okay?" "Whatever," Vegeta groused. "Thanks! Bye." Hanging up the phone, the short saiyajin took a couple of steps back and leaned against the wall. It had been two weeks since the two humans and Piccolo had returned, and still he'd gotten no peace. He'd been able to sleep, but he continued to wake up restless and irritable. The dreams were no longer there, and that was somehow worse. What good was sleep if it was only fitful and unsatisfying? But sleep was nothing to him now. Yamcha was missing. And as much as he hated to admit it, he was worried. He wanted to find him. And he would get no sleep until the human was found. Pulling the towel from his waist, he quickly dried himself off as he walked to the closet, finding his navy blue daily training outfit. Vegeta swiftly pulled on the formfitting clothing then left the apartment. He didn't care if Krillin and the rest of them were going to look for Yamcha. Vegeta was going to find him first. *** "Hello?" "Hi there, Videl. This is Krillin," greeted the bald human. "Oh, hi, Krillin," came the monotone reply. "I heard you were back. How was the trip?" "Um... Interesting," Krillin said vaguely. "Say, is Gohan there?" "Yes." "... Well, can I talk to him?" Krillin asked, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. "No," came the flat reply. "What do you mean, 'no'?" he asked, shocked. "Yes, he's here," Videl sighed, "but no, I won't get him to come to the phone." Krillin frowned. What was her problem? PMS? Trying to keep the confusion out of his voice, he asked calmly, "Well, why not?" "He hasn't set foot out of his room since New Year's Day," Videl curtly replied. "But he'd better get his ass out of there by the time the next school semester starts, or else I'm breaking down his damned door." "O-kay. Doesn't that make it hard for you to go to sleep at night if you can't get in?" he wondered aloud into the phone. What exactly was going on over at Gohan's house? The small former monk wasn't sure he really wanted to know. "Are you kidding?" she snorted. "I have my own bedroom." Biting down a bit on his tongue, Krillin had a feeling he'd just opened a whole can of worms. "Oh." "Is that all you wanted to call about?" Videl grounded out, a nerve clearly having been jabbed with a sharp, pointy object. "Because Gohan is not coming to the phone, and I won't even try to get him to come out." "Yeah," the small human male admitted into the receiver. "Um, well, I--" And suddenly the phone went dead in his hand. Krillin pulled it away from his ear to stare in frustrated anger at the receiver. "Hey! That little bitch just hung up on me!" "Krillin, don't be so melodramatic," 18 sighed. Taking the phone from her husband's fist before he broke it, the blonde android gently hung it up back in its cradle on the wall. She bent down and placed a chaste kiss on top of his head. "Videl's just a pain in the ass. Why do you think Pan's been living with Chichi all this time? Not that she's all that much better, but still. Forget about asking Gohan and call the other two halfwits." "Huh? Halfwits?" Hearing her subconscious slip, she quickly covered by saying, "I meant half-breeds. The other two. You know..." "Oh. Right," Krillin grinned up at his wife. "Okay. Good idea, honey. You're so smart." *** Chibi yawned as he sat up on his elbows. It was well into the morning, and if he had been living on his own, he would have been up hours ago doing chores. But he wasn't living on his own. He was living with Trunks. And Trunks wasn't about to let him do chores when there were other things that they could be doing. The lavender-haired youth beside him grinned up at him, running his hand through his hair to get it out of his face. There was no real reason for them to get out of bed in his opinion. It wasn't as if either of them had to be anywhere. Of course, that was just an excuse to spend the entire day together. In bed. He smiled as he looked at Chibi, more than happy with his boyfriend. Ever since the appearance of the royal demi-saiyajin, however, Trunks' thoughts had been preoccupied. That was all right with Chibi, though, as he often found himself wondering what his other self saw in Piccolo. And, he had to admit, he often found himself wondering what it would be like to have sex with the mysterious namek. "He kind of reminds me of Dad, ya know," Trunks said as he ran his hands down Chibi's back, simply to touch him. "Only, he's better-looking." "Yeah, I guess," Chibi said. His brow wrinkled as he thought. "How do you think he likes it here? I mean, he's not a prince here, just like your dad isn't. But at least your dad had your mom to look after him. He has Piccolo. And yeah, Piccolo's a great guy and all, but..." "But I don't see Piccolo as being the type of person to actually give our little prince some enculturation into our world. Yeah, I know. Piccolo's a recluse," Trunks said as he sat up. "Ya know, I don't really see what he sees in him." "Who?" Chibi asked. "Huh? Um, I meant, I don't see what Goten sees in Piccolo. I mean... well... He's... reclusive. Not any kind of fun," Trunks tried to explain. "I bet the sex is good, though," Chibi responded, almost trying to defend his alter-self. Trunks responded with a look that severely questioned his lover's sanity. "Well... He's strong. And with all those special moves of his... I mean, I heard he could increase the size of his body. Could you imagine? And he also knows that special split-form technique... The possibilities are endless," Chibi clarified as he sat up, the comforter pooling around his waist. "Hmmm. What would you think of two Piccolo's fucking your brains out?" Trunks grinned. He didn't miss Chibi's blush, as the younger demi-saiyajin -had- been thinking of such a thing. Instead of getting jealous or angry, though, he confessed his own fantasy. "Ya know... me, personally, I'd love to have you and your alternate." "Oh?" Chibi asked in a purr, raising an eyebrow in an almost arrogant manner. "Mm-hmm," Trunks said, grinning at Chibi's playfulness. He moved so that he was straddling the younger male, pushing him down. "I'd love to have you under me, writhing, begging, on your back. Of course, I'd be so deep inside you that I could taste myself as I kiss you. And then he'd be in me, riding me bareback, hard, too, so that every time he moves, you'd feel it like an aftershock. I think it'd be good." "I can imagine," Chibi said as he leaned up. "But for now, why don't we work on the part with you so deep inside me that you can taste yourself?" "Mmm, sounds good to me." Trunks laughed as he dipped his head to slant his mouth hungrily across Chibi's. He was pulled further down by strong arms wrapping around him. They crashed back down to bed, mouths fused together. Before their love play could go much further, though, the phone rang. Chibi groaned as his head fell back against the pillow. "Aw, man!" "Dammit," Trunks cursed as he leaned up. He looked at the phone, where it sat on his nightstand. "I don't want to answer it." "Go ahead, Trunks. I mean, it could be important or something," Chibi sighed. "It's probably the 'or something', and I don't want to deal with it," Trunks muttered, but as the offending invention continued to ring, Trunks knew he would either have to answer it or blast it to bits. He settled for answering it. His voice was light as he asked, "Hello?" "Hey, Trunks, it's Krillin. Hope I didn't catch you at a bad time." "Nah, it's cool. What's up?" Trunks answered, looking over his shoulder at his dark-haired lover who was getting out of bed and already turning towards the shower. He shook his head and sat on the edge of the bed. "Well, I need a little help," the human began. "Yamcha kinda disappeared. I mean, you know, I think he ran off. And I was hoping you and Goten could give me a hand looking for him." "Chibi." "Excuse me?" "We had to decide on something else to call him. So it's 'Chibi' now. 'Goten' is the prince. 'Chibi' is my boyfriend. Remember?" "Oh, right, right. Sorry about that. I forgot," Krillin responded. "Well, anyway, can you help?" "Sure. What do you need us to do?" "Why don't you guys meet me up at the Look-out? I wanna bring Piccolo and Prince Goten in on this. Piccolo's better at the strategizing stuff. He'll know where to start." "All right. We'll be there soon," Trunks said, knowing he'd need to take a shower as well. They were going to the Look-out, after all. "Thanks. See you then." Trunks hung up the phone and went to collect the clothes he was going to wear that day. He'd need something that would keep him warm at high altitudes and something that wouldn't get in his way. He sighed as he went to go dig out his old training outfit. At least he looked good in it. While he was at it, he grabbed one for Chibi, too. *** Krillin landed at the Look-out without any overt use of his chi. He had gotten used to using only a minimal amount in that alternate reality, and it wasn't a habit he wanted to break yet. He looked around and noticed that his arrival had gone unnoticed so far. Behind him, he could feel 'Chibi' and Trunks arriving. "Hey, guys. Thanks for coming." "Sure," Chibi replied with a smile. "Yamcha's our friend, too." "Yeah. So! Let's go find Piccolo and Goten and see about finding him," Trunks said, though he was mostly just interested in seeing Piccolo and Goten together. He would really love to ask Piccolo if he could perhaps -borrow- Goten for a bit, but he doubted the larger male would go for that. He might not have been the brightest, but he did have some survival instincts, no matter what his dad claimed. "Right," Krillin said as he took the lead towards Piccolo's room. Even though he knew that Yamcha was a grown man and quite capable of taking care of himself, he also knew that was when the thief was in his right mind, and lately, that just wasn't the case. He couldn't believe that he had allowed Yamcha to run out on his own. He was so embarrassed that he only half-noticed that both Chibi and Trunks lowered their chi, masking their power levels. Yamcha had become increasingly depressed until he became nothing more than a zombie in the past couple of weeks since they came back. He would move if you told him to and would eat if you put food in front of him. But, if left on his own, he would only sleep. Or, if he couldn't sleep, he would stare out the window. If it wasn't for 18 insisting, Krillin doubted that his old friend would bother to shower or shave. Krillin didn't know what to do for him. And in all truth, the state that Yamcha was in scared him. Just looking into the desert bandit's eyes was frightening. It wasn't because they were tear-filled or bloodshot. But it was because they were so... empty. Like everything that Yamcha was had bled out in the tears that Krillin knew he had cried. The three fighters walked across the bridge that connected Piccolo's room with the Look-out in utter silence. Krillin shook off his anxiety as he neared the doorway to Piccolo's room, knowing that he would have to have a clear head to help with the planning. He took a deep breath to shout out a greeting to the other two warriors as he entered, but the words died in his throat at the scene before him. His stop was so sudden that Trunks and Chibi ran into him, equally stunned. Piccolo was leaning up against a wall, his turban and cape missing in action. His head was thrown back, and his fangs were digging into his lower lip. He was also missing his shirt and sash, though it was easy to see why. His green fingers were entangled in ebony hair as Prince Goten knelt between his legs. The demi-saiyajin's brown tail moved in time with the motion of his head, as if offering a counterbalance to what he was doing. It took a moment, but Krillin finally registered the soft sound of the prince purring as he deep-throated the green warrior. The short monk backpedaled, forcing his two companions to move with him, as he left the two lovers to their activities. "I don't think they saw us," Krillin whispered as he dragged Trunks and Chibi back across the bridge. His entire head was a dark blush. "Do you think they saw us? I don't think they saw us. Kami, I hope they didn't see us. We'd be so dead if they did. Yeah, I don't think they saw us." Even though he was walking away from the room with the view, Chibi could still see his royal self on his knees, obviously enjoying what he was doing to Piccolo. Flushing, he looked to the ground, completely ignoring Krillin's soft tirade. His flaming cheeks weren't from being embarrassed at witnessing the action; more, it was from wondering what it would be like to do the same thing to the namek. The youngest Son thought about how it would feel to take Piccolo into his mouth, sucking and stroking with his tongue. He moved his shoulders in discomfort as his bodysuit quickly became awkwardly warm and constrictive. Trunks' blue eyes were wide as he stared straight ahead, his mind racing in a small circular pattern. He knew, intimately, how good his dark-haired demi-saiyajin was at -that- particular activity, and just thinking of Prince Goten, so regal and proud and dark, on his knees worshipping him... And with that tail moving in time with his actions! Just the thought of having that brown, furry tail alive and in his hand had the demi-saiyajin harder than he had been since he and Chibi had finally gotten together. Trunks moved to brush a stray lock of his lavender hair out of his face, managing to wipe his mouth at the same time. He didn't think anyone was noticing him, but he didn't want to be too obvious. "Oh, man, I can't believe we just walked in on that!" Krillin muttered, still rattled out of his wits. He was so flabbergasted by what he had inadvertently witnessed that he momentarily forgot about the reason they had come. "Man, Krillin. You're really freaking out," Trunks said as he finally took notice of the small human. "Why? I mean, yeah, it was embarrassing, but--" "But nothing! That was the second time I walked in on them while--" "You mean you got to see them to do that twice?!" Chibi asked, his eyes bright like Krillin had never seen before. "NO!" the ex-monk interjected. "The other time they just were kissing, but--" "Oh. So you didn't get to see them actually having sex," Chibi sighed. Krillin's face twitched at the sound of disappointment in the youth's voice. "No. And I don't want to. It's not that I have a problem with them being together or anything. It's just... It's Piccolo. And I dunno about you two, but I'm going to try and pretend that I didn't see what I thought I saw in there. In fact, I'm going to pretend that I didn't even go over there and that I just got here. In fact, I'm gonna raise my chi, as if I had just gotten here and am ringing their doorbell, and I suggest you two do the same." "Shouldn't we wait for them to finish, or something?" Trunks asked, looking towards Piccolo and Goten's room even as he raised his chi. "Piccolo's done," Chibi answered. "Didn't you feel his chi spike? They're through." "I'm also going to pretend I didn't hear what you two just said," Krillin intoned, his voice coming out thick and strained. "Didn't hear what?" a new voice to the conversation asked. Krillin spun around to smile at his wife. "Nothing, honey. Nothing that I want to remember. So, I guess you could make it after all, huh?" "Yeah. It was no task at all to call 17 and tell him that I was going to be late to open. He said he could get in, though, and start setting up the club," 18 answered. She raised her gaze from her husband's curious eyes to look at the two figures approaching them across the small walkway. "Hey, Piccolo! Hey, Goten!" Trunks and Chibi waved, smiling brightly, eyes shining. Krillin looked in the direction that his wife was looking. But he couldn't manage to raise his eyes enough to look Piccolo or Goten in the face. Instead, he settled for looking at their chests. "What brings you all by?" Piccolo asked. He noticed that Krillin and the demi-saiyajins with him appeared flushed, which was odd since he knew that the three of them didn't usually exert themselves much when they flew up the to Look-out. "Yamcha ran away," stated 18. The android always sounded bored, whether or not that was the case. Then again, no one could ever really tell. "What? Why?" Goten queried. "We don't know," replied Krillin, shaking his head. "All we know is that when we woke up this morning, he was gone. We were hoping the two of you could help us find him. We brought Trunks and Chibi, too." "Did you try his apartment first?" Piccolo suggested. "Called. Vegeta said he hadn't seen him. I'm pretty sure he would've told us if he had. I told him to keep an eye out." Piccolo raised an eyebrow ridge. "You -told- him?" "Asked," 18 replied. She crossed her arms and shifted to one foot as she regarded the namek. "Ah," answered the tall, green warrior. Goten tilted his head to one side, carefully studying the short human and his android. The way he clung to her side. Krillin was so clearly affectionate with this 18. What exactly was different here from his world? It made him wonder... "I thought you didn't like 18." "Oh, no, no, no," Krillin chuckled uneasily. Scratching the back of his bald head, he kept up the grin, quickly offering clarification. "I didn't like -that- 18. -This- is my wife. My beautiful, loving wife." The regal demi-saiyajin quirked up one eyebrow. "They look the same to me." "I'll pretend you didn't say that," said the pint-sized male, looking very nonchalant. Turning to Trunks beside him, Chibi snickered, "He's pretending a -lot- today." Clearing his throat to regain the attention of the gathered bunch, the only namek present looked at them all and quickly thought about the problem. "We'll split up into teams. We can cover more ground that way." Piccolo's brow knit as he eyed Trunks and Chibi, so he added, "We'll go three teams of two, at least one intelligent partner per pair." Krillin grabbed his wife's arm. "Well, I've got my brains right here." Trunks nodded. "Okay, so, Chibi and I'll go--" "He said each pair needs an -intelligent- partner," 18 interrupted. "Just what are you implying?" the lavender-haired youth asked. "I'm saying neither of you is particularly bright," the blonde android answered dryly. "One of you should go with Piccolo and the other should take Goten." Neither Piccolo nor Goten missed the suggestive look on Trunks' face as he slid a quick glance towards the prince. Passing a glance between themselves, Piccolo was the one to speak up. "Trunks, you're with me." "Come on, idiot," Goten said to Chibi, moving over to him and grabbing his shirt. "Let's go." "Hey, wait a minute," Trunks protested. "Goten doesn't know anything about this planet. He'll have no idea where they're going." "But Chibi will," Piccolo pointed out, "and that's enough." "So does that mean I'm the smart one?" Chibi grinned brightly. When everyone simply looked at him blankly, he sighed. "Sheesh. No senses of humor, you guys. I was just kidding." "All right," Piccolo began. "Let's just fan out. Krillin, you and 18 take the southern islands. Chibi and Goten, the desert. Trunks and I will hit the northern mountain ranges and then turn south. We'll meet back here by sundown." *** Krillin and 18 took the air, shooting towards the earth at high speeds. They had a lot of land to cover. Krillin huffed before he set his features into a determined scowl, trying to boost his confidence. Or at least get his mind to get away from the images still playing behind his eyes. 18 knew her husband, and though she knew that he needed time to get his head in order, she also knew that there was no time like the present to ask her question. "What's wrong?" "Huh?" Krillin asked, slowing down. "Oh, nothing." "What was it that you saw and you didn't want to remember?" 18 elaborated, giving him the look that said she wasn't going to stop asking until he told her. "Oh, uh, um," Krillin stumbled. He looked to the ground, avoiding her eyes. He didn't want to tell her. He seriously didn't want to tell her. If he told her, then he knew that somehow Piccolo would find out that he had seen what he had seen, and then he'd be dead because there was no doubt in his mind that Piccolo would kill him if he knew. It wasn't that he didn't trust 18. Of course he trusted her. But it was just that Piccolo was... scary and smart and had really good hearing. He supposed the namek got that from Kami, who had watched over the world for most of his life. "Trust me, you don't want to know." "Yes, I do," 18 answered. "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to know." Krillin sighed in defeat. He knew that his wife wasn't going to let this go. When she wanted something, she went after it until it either died or she got it. "All right. I'll tell you. But this goes no further than between us." "Who would I tell?" the blond android retorted. "Your big-mouth brother." "... Fine. I won't say a word." "Swear?" "Krillin, you're trying my patience." "Sorry, honey. Okay. Well, when I got there, Chibi and Trunks were just getting there, so we decided to go right over to Piccolo's place, but we made a major mistake when we got there because we just walked right on in without bothering to knock because, ya know, we've never knocked before when we went to go visit Piccolo. Well, I think we'd better start because when we got there, we found Piccolo against the wall and Goten on his knees," Krillin said in a rush. "Were they fighting?" "No." "So they were... Oh." "Yeah." "... Did Piccolo enjoy it?" "WHAT?!" "Well... I just can't imagine Piccolo having sex. I'm trying to, though, and I just wondered if he enjoyed it." "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear you say that," Krillin responded with a shudder. After a moment of flying though, he conceded. "Okay, okay. I'm sure they both got a real kick out of it." "Hmm." Curiosity consumed 18's mind as her eyes scanned the area below them. "How did they get together?" Krillin sighed deeply. "Honey, that is a long and complicated story about which I know absolutely nothing. But... please don't ask Piccolo. I want to live." *** Their breath came out in white plumes of fog as they hovered in mid air, shivering in cold. The mountains were coated in snow, and they were high up in altitude. It was cold. Piccolo looked around at the rocks below, wondering if Yamcha would be there this time of year. Close by, Trunks was shivering in obvious discomfort, and the namek was reminded that the most of the others had a lower tolerance for the cold. "Come on. Let's look for smoke, or a fire, or some sign of heat," Piccolo said as he observed the younger male, making sure he wasn't about to die of hypothermia. "Yeah. Heat would be nice," Trunks nodded. He looked around, rubbing his arms. "Speaking of heat... how long have you and Goten been together?" Piccolo was so taken aback by the question that he actually stopped to think about it. He eyed the lavender-haired boy beside him, knowing that Trunks was fully grown but was still a boy, and answered suspiciously, "A while." "A while?" Trunks replied. The answer didn't satisfy him, not in the least. "So... is that long enough to know all his secrets, or is it still in the 'getting to know your secrets' phase?" "What?!" Piccolo asked, clearly floored. "Well, I'm just curious if he's got all the same hidden pleasure spots that Chibi does. Like, does he like to have the back of his knees licked, or--" "Trunks," Piccolo interrupted. When he was sure he would be able to control his temper and his voice, he continued. "My personal life -- and by that, I mean Goten -- is none of your business. And I mean NONE of your business. And if you so much as utter a single word along the lines of your previous questions, I'll rip out your tongue and shove it down your throat." The lavender-haired demi-saiyajin paled completely and gulped, nodding vigorously. Whether the namek was stronger or not, Trunks knew Piccolo was dead serious about ending his speaking days. *** Goten and Chibi looked down at the desert. There wasn't much to see. Or rather, there was a whole lot of nothing to see. The land stretched out before them for miles and miles and miles, sometimes broken up by rocks and the occasional formation. There were also the impacted areas from previous fights and sparring matches. Goten looked around at the impressive display of open land and shook his head. In his opinion, the humans should move their cities to the desert, and make the green land where they were located into farming land. But then, he wasn't about to tell them that. It wasn't his world, after all. "There's been a lot of battles here," Chibi said as they passed yet another area pockmarked with craters. "So I can gather," Goten replied. "They were impressive displays of strength, too." "Yeah," Chibi agreed. "But a lot of the craters are also where Vegeta got pissed off at something and came to vent." "Does he do that often?" "What? Get pissed off or vent?" "Both." "Oh. Well... Vegeta has a short temper. And no one is... well... No one's good enough for him," Chibi tried to explain. He turned to Goten and added, "He's a lot like you." Goten started at that, turning from scanning the barren wasteland below to looking at his strange alternate. Chibi saw the sharp look he got, but he didn't care. He knew he was stronger. And even if he wasn't, he doubted Goten would kill him for speaking the truth. Goten stopped flying, making Chibi do likewise. "You don't know anything about me. Don't even presume that you do." "I'm just calling it as I see it," Chibi defended. "And from what I've seen, you two are a lot alike." Goten glared at him, formulating an argument in his head to what his other said. Before he got the chance, though, Chibi cut in. "Of course, there is one major difference." "And what is that?" Goten snapped. "You've got Piccolo," Chibi answered with a shrug, as if he didn't care. In his heart, he respected Piccolo. Trusted him more than he trusted anyone else besides Trunks. He had grown up with the hero-worshipping stories that Gohan used to tell, and even the few times he had been around the namek, he knew that Piccolo was just one of those people that you followed. After all the thinking he had done, it was just odd that Goten had fallen for the namek, considering that he was a prince and all. "Just how did you two come to get together, anyway?" Goten regarded his companion carefully, not sure of where this line of questioning would lead. "Persistence." "Persistence?" questioned Chibi. "What do you mean? You chased him down, made him love you?" "I did not -make- him do -anything-," Goten snorted, looking away for a moment to scan the area of landscape over which they were hovering before he returned his attention to Chibi. "Well, that's not what I'm saying." Chibi ran a hand through his unruly spikes, wondering how he was going to explain what he was trying to ask. He just didn't get this alternate version of himself. "What exactly -are- you saying?" Goten sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He was getting a headache. '_And the day had started out so well..._' He stopped his futile attempt to chase the pain away and crossed his arms over his chest. As soon as he and Chibi finished their conversation, they could resume their search. "I dunno. I'm just curious. I mean, Piccolo doesn't really seem like the type to have a boyfriend. And... neither do you, for that matter. How many boyfriends have you had?" "Are you always accustomed to asking so many ridiculous questions?" Goten snapped, shifting uncomfortably. He narrowed his eyes at the other male, wondering if Chibi was somehow trying to mock or insult him. "I don't think my questions are ridiculous. Besides, the best way to learn stuff is to ask," Chibi huffed. Goten grinded his teeth for a moment, trying to get back into that space inside his head that would wash away all of his emotions. It was so easy to get aggravated with his counterpart, which was counter-productive to what they were trying to accomplish. "Why are you asking me these things?" "You and Piccolo... That's just really interesting to me. I just want to know everything," Chibi shrugged. Before he lost his nerve, he rambled on, asking all the questions that had been plaguing his mind. "Like... How you got together, how long you've been together, what you do together, what you talk about, how the great the sex is--" "Excuse me?!" "What?" "Our sex life is none of your concern," Goten fairly snarled. '_I am -not- going to suffer through more people poking their noses into my sex life. I've lived long enough with father and Gohan doing that, and I don't need anyone from an alternate dimension doing the same._' "Well, I know, but... I still want to know," grinned Chibi. "I'll bet the sex is just fantastic. Is it? Is Piccolo good? I'll bet he is." "Now, you listen to me," Goten said as he floated up close to the shorter but stockier male. He barely kept his anger in check as he informed Chibi in clipped tones, "You could not possibly wrap your miniscule brain around the pleasures he gives me. He is amazing. And I'm only telling you this to shut you up. I swear that if you ask a single question more about us, I will cut out your tongue and cram it down your throat. Have I made myself perfectly clear?" "Yeah," Chibi nodded, his eyes wide. Whether or not he was stronger than the royal demi-saiyajin, he knew just by looking into those dark eyes that there was no bluffing behind that threat. He was dead serious. And Chibi knew that if he continued on, he'd be just as dead, but in a different way. "Good," Goten nodded curtly, before looking to the ground and taking off, continuing their search for the missing fighter, and dismissing the conversation for good. *** He had searched several bars that he knew Yamcha had frequented, just from some of the photos in his album where the names where in the background or matchbooks had been lying around. He had tried the baseball fields. He had tried a few strip clubs. He had even gone so far as to go see if he was at Capsule Corp with Bulma. Yamcha hadn't been at any of those places. Vegeta was a hunter, though, and he knew that Yamcha had to be somewhere. He growled to himself as he checked the condo one more time. Quietly, in case the ex-thief was there, he unlocked the door and strode inside. There still wasn't any sign of the human, only the distant memory of his scent, the same memory with which Vegeta had been dealing for about a year. The saiyajin prince let out a string of curses so foul the paint would have peeled off the wall had it understood the various languages. The short male closed the door before he leaned up against it. He slid to the ground as he tried to think. '_He has to be somewhere. He doesn't have Kakarrot's damn Instant Transmission technique, so he has to be somewhere. And he's hiding there. Would he hide in plain sight, or would he go for solitude? He's... He's like a wounded animal right now. And when an animal is hurt, it goes someplace where it would feel safe. Where would Yamcha feel safe?_' Vegeta sat there, racking his brain, trying to think. And then it hit him. His head shot up so fast, he put a dent in the door. "SHIT!" Vegeta didn't even remember how he left the condo, all he knew was that he was suddenly flying at a breakneck speed to the desert. Back to where Yamcha had lived when before he had ever met any of his friends. Back to where Yamcha could truly be alone. Back to his past. It was almost night by the time Vegeta found the place. It was well-hidden, and Yamcha hadn't been broadcasting his chi. But the human had made one mistake. There had been a small light on, and some of it spilt out of a window. Vegeta had almost missed it, but fate had intervened. Yamcha sat in the only remaining chair in the entire place, which was fortunately the only kitchen chair he had had. He stared into the flickering flame of an oil lamp, ignoring his surroundings. He had gotten so tired of staying at Krillin's place. So tired of being there. So tired of listening to Krillin's soft laughter at his wife. So tired of them trying to convince him to try and live on. So tired of listening to how much they loved each other. So tired of... life. But he couldn't kill himself. He just couldn't. He had no qualms about it, really. For him, suicide could be an honorable out. It was just... he didn't think he deserved it. He cursed himself mentally, tears sliding down his face. He hated it. Hated it all. But mostly, he hated that he was alone. Softly, unknowingly, he began to sing the lullaby that Geta had taught him. Vegeta landed outside the adobe home, trying to hide his chi. His footfalls barely disturbed the dusty ground on which he walked. Before he grabbed the handle of the door, he leaned his head against the thin piece of wood to listen in, making sure that Yamcha was indeed in there and not someone else. When he heard Yamcha singing, and what precise song, Vegeta found himself swaying and had to forcibly remind himself to breathe. Taking a few deep breaths, he regained some of his composure and opened the door. The thing slid open soundlessly, only to fall with a crash after Vegeta released it. The thing hadn't even been on hinges; it had merely rested against the doorjamb. Yamcha tore his gaze from the small flame to look at the entrance to his hideout, having to blink away brightly colored sparks from his eyes before he was actually able to see Vegeta marching in. The short prince strode into the room as if he owned the place, stopping just a few short feet from the human. Crossing his arms, he looked around the small dwelling before returning his gaze to the still sitting Yamcha. "What do you think you're doing?" "Leave me alone," Yamcha sighed as he returned his gaze to the oil lamp. He didn't want to look at Vegeta. It hurt. It hurt like nothing should ever have a right to hurt. "Like hell," Vegeta snapped, trying to get a rise out of the other male. It had worked in the past... Well, it had either made him angry or flustered. After a moment's pause, when Yamcha didn't say anything else, just continued to stare at the lamp, the prince growled low and said, "I asked you a question." "And I said to leave me alone. Go away, Vegeta," Yamcha said, his voice neutral in that empty kind of way. "Just... go away." "No." Vegeta had never heard that tone of voice from any of the humans, not even from Gohan after his father died the second time "What do you mean 'no'?" Yamcha asked, turning to look at his uninvited guest again. "I mean, I'm not going anywhere," Vegeta replied, his anger dropping away, though his voice still remained gruff. "Not without you." Yamcha regarded the prince for a moment before asking, "How did they get you to help look for me, huh? What did they say? 'Cause we both know you don't give a damn about me." "Think whatever you want. I can't stop you," Vegeta shrugged. The prince took another pointed look around. He knew he had to get Yamcha out of this... 'hole' would be an overstatement. "But you -are- coming home with me." "I don't want to go back to Krillin's," Yamcha remarked, turning away again. "I didn't say his house, did I?" the short saiyajin retorted. "Listen for once. I said 'home'. Your home." Yamcha rolled his eyes in vexation, trying to figure out how to get rid of the more powerful male. "Give me one good reason why I should go with you." "... Your plants miss you." "What? My plants..." the human asked, startled. His head snapped around to regard the still standing Vegeta. "How did you know I had plants?" "You'll find out. But you'll have to come with me." "You know what?" Yamcha started, shaking his head. He returned to staring at the flickering light, trying to dismiss Vegeta all together. Wanting to dismiss the entire world if he could. "I don't want to. I want to stay here." "No! You are coming with me whether you like it or not!" Vegeta growled, moving faster than the human could see, even at his best. And he was definitely not at his best. Still, Yamcha tried to struggle away from the shorter male, which resulted in his shirt tearing. The scarred human landed on his rump, backing up on the ground until he was away from the saiyajin who seemed to be hell-bent on getting him to leave his adobe home. "Get the hell away from me!" Yamcha screamed, before he turned his back on the prince and ran to the opposite wall... and towards the window. He had both his hands on the windowsill and one foot propped up when a calloused hand grabbed his bare shoulder, preventing his escape by tossing him back into the room. Vegeta had Yamcha pinned under him belly-down so that he could stare at the brand. He was sure not to put too much pressure on the human's weaker bones, but he didn't want Yamcha to get away. His breathing was slowly turning ragged as his eyes traced the symbol, and it wasn't from any physical exertion. With ease, Vegeta managed to grasp both of Yamcha's wrists in one hand, freeing up the other to trace lightly, almost reverently, at the design. "Don't!" Yamcha hissed, struggling even though he knew it was futile. "Don't touch me." "Human... Yamcha..." the saiyajin rasped through an almost closed throat. "Do you... realize that this is--" "It's a lover's mark," Yamcha said. "And it was Geta's. And I said to get your hands off of me!" "It's -MY- mark," Vegeta whispered. "It's -MY- mark, and it says that you are mine." "I am -NOT- yours." "Yes," Vegeta replied. "Yes, you are. You -are- mine. And as such, you are coming with me whether you like it or not, even if I have to knock you unconscious." Yamcha stopped struggling, knowing that Vegeta had made up his mind, and about the only thing stronger than the prince's will was his muscles. "I'm not yours." "So you say," Vegeta replied, easing up when he was sure that Yamcha had ceased his struggles. "But be that as it may, I still claim you, and you are not staying in this… hovel. It's beneath you. You are coming home. Now." He wasn't sure that he heard the prince right. Had Vegeta actually said something was beneath him? He pushed that thought to the side, though. He knew he had heard the prince demanding he return with him, and that was something far easier on which to focus. Yamcha asked, "You're not going to let this drop, are you?" "No." "I can take care of myself," Yamcha said half-heartedly as Vegeta climbed off of him. "Yes. I can see what a fine job you've done so far," snorted Vegeta. "You haven't bathed today, and I doubt you've eaten. You're a mess. You're much better than this." The scarred human sighed and bowed his head, finally giving in completely. "All right. You win. Please, just... take me home." The saiyajin prince nodded his head sharply then followed Yamcha out of the small house. Flying beside him, Vegeta continuously watched the other male out of the corner of his eye, just in case he changed his mind and decided -not- to return to his home. Outwardly, he kept his typical scowl, but a spark of joy enthusiastically jumped around inside him. '_I did manage to get him to come home with me,_' Vegeta thought. '_Maybe this miracle business isn't so tough after all._' Studying Yamcha momentarily, he inexplicably asked him, "Do you believe in miracles?" Sparing only the briefest of glances for his company, the slightly larger man knew his answer without hesitation. "No." "You will."   



	28. Some Assembly Required

_Disclaimer- Deani and Summer, here. We don't own DBZ, but we -do- own this colossus. And we'd love to hear some love for it. So, come on, folks. Show us the love._

_Warnings- Yaoi, angst, ridiculousness. Relationships ahead. You know. The usual._ **Kingdom Come**  
~ Chapter 28 "Whoa. What's up with the human threads, Piccolo?" Dende inquired as the taller namek found him and Mr. Popo. Piccolo tugged slightly on the hem of his oatmeal-colored sweater. "Did you know you pay too much attention to the people down on earth? Really. Listen to your speech." "Yeah, yeah. So," grinned the young Kami. "Why are you all dressed up?" "I'm taking Goten to Capsule Corp today," he replied. "Hopefully, we'll be... getting our own place with Bulma's help." "So you're... leaving?" Mr. Popo asked. "Possibly," nodded the tall warrior. "I just thought I would... inform you ahead of time." "Huh. Well. Good luck with that," Dende smiled. He and Mr. Popo watched as Piccolo walked back towards his room. As soon as Piccolo was out of earshot, Dende breathed a heavy sigh. "Did you hear that? Am I dreaming?" "No, Dende. Piccolo -did- say they might be moving out." "Man, I hope so. I haven't been able to sleep a wink since they moved in!" "It's the sex," admitted the gardener. "They're very... loud." "And they take forever." "And it's not just at night." "No kidding." "... Is it wrong to hope they move?" "No, it isn't, Mr. Popo. No, it isn't." *** To the untrained, and uninformed, it would seem that Capsule Corp was having a strange holiday, as its usually busy design lab was curiously uninhabited. Well, mostly uninhabited. There were two individuals in the lab, but they were not workers, nor were they trained designers. They were, however, friends of Bulma's. Or rather, they were two people Bulma wanted to help out because she rather thought they deserved it. Plus, Piccolo asked her -- actually -asked- her -- for her assistance, and that was such a rare event that she rather doubted it had ever occurred before. She was very flattered by the act and instantly agreed to help them. The blue-haired genius wasn't too far off, sitting in her office doing paperwork, while cursing at the task under her breath. She left Piccolo and Goten to their own devices, after she showed them the basics of how to operate the design computers. She was quick to notice how fast they learned what everything was and how everything worked, and she knew that they wouldn't need her guidance. She grinned as she thought of all the others she knew to whom she wouldn't give that much credit. Vegeta came to mind. A low buzz made the azure-eyed woman jump in her chair. She looked at a security monitor, flipping the channels until the one outside the main door showed that there was a messenger waiting for her. She sighed as she set her pen down. It was probably something important. She hit the intercom button and asked the courier, "Yes?" "Hey. I need someone to sign for this package," he answered. Bulma nodded her head, though no one was there to see it. "Just one moment. I'll be right there." She walked out of her office and down the short hallway. The end of the hallway opened up to a huge hanger-like lab, where the two were working. "Hey guys! I'm gonna be right back. I've got to go answer the door." "All right," Goten replied, not bothering to look up from his blueprints. Upon first meeting the woman, she had smiled brightly at him and shook his hand. She had been enthusiastic but, unlike some of the others he had met, had quickly turned to Piccolo and waved them both towards the lab. She had rambled on about how nice it was that they were planning on moving in together and did they have a selected area of land and other topics that had flown by him far too fast for him to catch. But when it came to the machines, her hurried talk quickly died down, and she was very informative. But what truly caught the royal off-guard was that, after he grasped the concept behind the programs, she had smiled at him. He had caught his breath at the absolute -pride- and -joy- in her eyes, and he knew she was about to hug him. She didn't, but he rather thought it was a close call. He didn't know what to make of the reaction, but she had grinned at Piccolo and then meandered off to leave them to design their home in peace. "What do you think of this one?" Piccolo asked, indicating another, smaller, single story house. "Hmm, I like that one's bathroom layout," Goten commented, noticing where Piccolo was indicating. He flushed as he read the measurements. "Hn. Large tub." "And a large shower, too," Piccolo agreed, doing a much better job of keeping the laughter out of his voice. "You and water," Goten laughed. After he was done, though, he sighed and rubbed his face. They had been looking through the designs for some time and had yet to find a single house upon which they could both agree. The prince looked at the computer screen, which was cheerfully blinking its screensaver at him. He grimaced as he fiddled with the mouse, getting the glaring design off. He looked at his options again, and noticed, for the first time, the 'build' button. He raised an eyebrow as he investigated it. Piccolo turned to his lover when he heard a slight sound of pleasure. "What is it?" "I think I found the solution to our problem," Goten said with a slight smile. "Instead of going through all these designs and finding the one that we could fit into, why not design one specifically for -us-? We could build our own home just by going through the other designs and finding the things we like the most." As they quickly began to piece together the pieces they liked best, a frustrated yell grabbed their attention. "Dammit!" Bulma marched over to her desk and dropped a large brown box onto her desk, a large thud echoing throughout the room. Grabbing the phone, she angrily punched in a few buttons. "Vegeta. There's a package here for you. How many times have I told you that you -have- to change all of your mailing information when you buy things online? ... No, I don't know who it's from. What I -do- know is that I signed for it blindly, a mistake I will -not- make again. ... Fine, fine, I'll look. Um... Martin & Siegel. ... Well, come pick it up. ... Oh, please. I'm not bringing it over there, and I certainly won't pay another courier to take it. ... Why don't you get off your lazy ass and pick it up yourself? ... No, no. I understand what you're trying to do, which is shocking as hell, considering what a selfish bastard you are. ... Whatever..." Piccolo, who'd gotten tired of her tirade fairly quickly, heaved a deep sigh. "Mind if I intervene?" he whispered to Goten. "I can't take the screaming, and it'd give me an excuse to see how Yamcha is doing." "Go ahead," nodded the demi-saiyajin. "I'll finish the house since we have all the pieces picked out. I'll be okay. Take your time." "All right." He bent down and gave Goten a kiss before he moved over to the blue-haired human, tapping her on the shoulder. "I'll take it," he proposed. "Shut up a minute, Vegeta!" She turned to Piccolo, smiling brightly. "Oh, you don't need to do that. You and Goten are busy with the house. I'll just call... Trunks or something." "Give me the package," he stated, no longer simply 'offering'. "Okay," she relented quickly, picking up the box and setting in Piccolo's arms. "Well, guess what, Vegeta. It's your lucky day. ... No, I'm not going to drop dead, you asshole. Piccolo kindly offered to bring you your stupid box. ... He and Goten are making a house. ... Because they asked nicely, unlike some lousy, pointy-headed jerks I can think of. ... Oh, yeah? Same to you!" Goten watched the whole scene with some fascination. Bulma certainly was a spitfire. And a little bizarre. He'd definitely have to keep his guard up around her. She grinned brightly at him and Piccolo, trying to cover her harsh phone conversation with the saiyajin prince. "Well, you know that Vegeta. Can't live with him. Can't kill him." The namek merely smirked before exiting the lab, leaving Goten in the lab with Bulma. Not much later, Bulma heard Goten say he was finished, so she went in to investigate. "Hey. That's not one of our houses. Where did you get that?" "The 'build' function," the royal demi-saiyajin pointed out on the screen. "Piccolo and I didn't like any of the houses we saw, so we picked out the parts we liked, and I put them together here." "That is astonishing," she marveled. "You are -so- much better than any of my designers." "Thank you." "Want a job?" "Excuse me?" "I asked if you wanted a job," Bulma restated. "You have a real talent. I mean, this is a -gift-. You wouldn't have to do it all the time, and you could even work from home if you wanted. It'd be something to do, you know. And I'd pay you a -lot-." Goten mulled it over for a moment. He hadn't been bored yet since he'd arrived, but it would be nice to have a small duty again. And to get paid for it... Well, that wouldn't hurt. And he -had- always enjoyed architecture and design; his level in the palace of his world had been testament to that. It'd be something of his own, really. Something separate from Piccolo, yet not taking him away from the namek. Nodding, he finally answered. "I accept." "Wonderful!" beamed the human. "My other designers? -SO- fired. Besides, their work never has been that good. Anyway! Back to your house. I could definitely have this put together by tomorrow with the instructions you've inputted. Wait. Have you furnished the house yet? Because you should do that too." "Not yet," Goten admitted. "Well! You get right on that. I showed you where the furnishings are, right?" "Yes." "Great!" She observed the young male for a moment, taking in the human clothes that she knew for a fact had been created by Piccolo by the perfect fit. '_Hmm. They could both use a little extra taste of normalcy. Shopping! I'll have someone take Goten shopping. But who? 18 likes to shop, but for women's stuff. Trunks... Nah. He has shitty taste. No idea where he got that from. Ooh! I've got it!_' Quickly rushing from the room back to her office, she shut the door behind her and punched in a phone number. "Yeah," came the answer on the other end of the line. "17? Bulma. Listen, I've got a little project I need help with." "Are you going to take my arm apart again?" the raven-haired android asked. "Because my left wrist just hasn't been the same since your last little 'project'." "No, no. I want you to take Goten shopping," she corrected. "I don't do shopping. Call 18. Or your son. He likes to shop." "But he doesn't have your impeccable taste. I thought someone of your style and refinement would be best to help." Bulma was no slouch in the flattery department as she liked to be complimented as much as possible herself. "True. But why should I be dressing up his boyfriend for him?" "Not that Goten," Bulma said. "Ohh. The little prince that Piccolo brought back with him, huh?" 17 smiled into the phone. "That's ri-ight," the blue-haired woman grinned. "I want you to come by and take him clothes shopping. Full use of the Capsule Corp credit cards. You can even pick up something for yourself." The android wasted no time in responding. "All right. It's a deal." "I knew you'd see things my way," laughed Bulma. "Be here ASAP, okay?" "On my way," 17 replied before hanging up the phone. Bulma giggled to herself as she placed the receiver back in its cradle. Clasping her hands together, she had to keep herself from dancing as she went back out into the lab where Goten was still furnishing his and Piccolo's soon-to-be home. '_Now,_' she thought. '_How to break it to him that he's about to get a crash course in earth culture... Hmm. Oh! I'll tell him it's for Piccolo. Something tells me that's the button to push. Kami, I'm -such- a genius!_' *** "Where are you living here?" "With Piccolo." "At the Look-out?" 17 looked up from his quick browsing of jackets. He had managed to convince the young prince to come with him to a retro shop after visiting a few other clothing stores that were ill suited for anyone of taste. He eyed the demi-saiyajin not far from him. He knew that Goten was from a parallel dimension. But other than that... the information was definitely lacking. "Yes, but not for long," Goten agreed, moving to look at something else. He didn't care for anything in the shop and quite honestly had yet to see anything anywhere that he'd -want- to wear. He much preferred wearing what Piccolo created for him. "Oh?" 17 asked, though his voice barely changed tones. "Getting your own place?" "-We- are getting a house from Bulma," Goten informed him, making sure to emphasize the 'we' part. "You don't say." The dark-haired android grinned. He found a way to get under the prince's skin already, and he hadn't even been trying all that hard. "How... interesting." "What do you mean?" the demi-saiyajin asked, turning to look at his companion sharply. He was used to everyone asking about his and Piccolo's relationship, but this was the first person that the prince thought would be able to offer information on Piccolo's life before they met. "Come on, let's leave this place. There's nothing good here. We'll go to the fashion district. It's not that far," 17 said, side stepping the issue for a moment. They walked down the street together, only so close as to create the illusion of a private conversation, but no closer. "Living a domesticated life with Piccolo. He must really like you if he's willing to be domesticated for you." "It was his idea," Goten commented, looking at the blue-eyed android out of the corner of his vision. "Really?" 17 exclaimed, making sure to add inflections. Granted, part of his game was purely for pleasure's sake. But there was also the need for information, and when people were riled, they tended to say things that they might not normally say. Do things that they didn't normally do."Now, that -is- interesting. It makes me wonder..." "What?" Goten snapped after 17 didn't finish his sentence. He wasn't all that sure he wanted to know what the android was thinking, but he did want to cull any unfounded ideas that the dark-haired male might have. "Why Piccolo? You were a prince in your dimension, weren't you? I mean, you could've had anybody you wanted," 17 said, turning to look at the younger male as they walked. This topic was what truly interested him. Not the chase, as he knew all about chasing people, and getting in their beds, for that matter. But why settle? "So... Why him, of all people?" "I don't think I understand," Goten responded, crossing his arms. He tilted his head to the side as his tail almost unwound from its position around his waist. 17 tried not to smirk as he formulated something he thought might provoke the younger male. "Well, let's face it. Piccolo's not the most entertaining guy I've ever met. Not the best looking. Doesn't particularly outshine anyone else. I mean, he's so... bland. I just really have to wonder why you chose him." Goten looked the android over a moment, weighing his options. He could refuse to answer the question. It would be very easy. But, there was a part of him that wanted to answer it, because he rather thought that 17 was genuinely curious about that rather than what sleeping with the green warrior was like. "It's... complicated." "Try me." "... All right," the prince sighed. "Piccolo is very... attractive to me. He was different from everyone I knew. He was strong, yet compassionate. A warrior who preferred meditation over the bloodletting of the arena. He... he did not care for power. Or prestige. He knows what duty is, which was practically unheard of at home. He is honorable... And..." "And...?" 17 encouraged, but when he saw that Goten wasn't going to elaborate, he simply smirked. "And you can't really think when you think about him. Can you..." "I can," Goten retorted, his cheeks tinting a bit. "I can put my emotions aside." "Uh-huh. Just like Piccolo can, I'm sure," 17 smiled. "Piccolo is quite capable of overcoming emotional restrictions," Goten said with vehemence. "Like I said, he knows duty and honor." "Yes. I know he does," 17 agreed. There was a devious light in his eyes as he added, almost offhandedly, "Still. You aren't who I imagined domesticating him." "What do you mean?" "And we're here. My sister would kill me if she knew I was down here without her. She's quite the shopper," 17 murmured, ignoring the question as he looked down the main street of the fashion district. "Hmmm, where to go..." "17!" Goten demanded, keeping the command in his voice while also keeping the volume down. "What do you mean?" 17 turned to look at his young companion again and quickly thought about a few things. He really didn't want to rock the boat in which Piccolo and the prince were sleeping, though he knew it would be a lot of fun to do. It just wouldn't serve any purpose, and the cleanup afterwards would probably be paid for with his hide. At least from Piccolo's side. Grinning, the android tried to deflect the prince's concern. "I meant nothing by it. Just trying to find out how good you are at putting your emotions aside." "You're mocking me?!" "I prefer to think of it as teasing. No harm is meant, but it's still a lot of fun," the android smiled. "So, what did you two do for Valentine's Day? Though... Piccolo doesn't seem like the type to do Valentine's Day, so maybe you did nothing." Goten looked at 17 a moment, his mind flashing back to that holiday. He had never heard of it before and had thought it a prank, but when they had passed by the city on their way to Piccolo's waterfall, the prince learned otherwise. It was indeed a true holiday. And what a holiday it was! Goten flushed as he remembered the day, or what he could when he wasn't passed out or asleep. It had been a good day, filled with delicious food and an even more delicious lover. Goten, still blushing, couldn't help the slight smirk as his eyes regained their focus. "We enjoyed ourselves." "Well, well," 17 said, a light, amused chuckle underlying his words. Having known the namek for so long, he never really thought much of him. He respected him, of course, but Piccolo was completely the kind of person about whom everyone spoke well -- except Chichi, who spoke well about nearly no one -- but to whom nobody bothered to speak. It entertained him to no end when he found out Piccolo had brought back a 'boyfriend'. 17 was further amused upon discovering the boyfriend was Prince Goten. '_I only wish I could've been there to see Gohan's reaction. He must've been pissing his pants. Heh._' Still, it was... neat to see two completely out of place people like Piccolo and Goten together. "Good for you. Both of you." They went through a few of the shops located on the main strip, walking in to browse, but they never could find anything worth buying. It wasn't that they were too picky; it was just that nothing they found was suitable. The Capsule Corp credit card was almost burning a hole in 17's pocket, but he wasn't finding anything worth using it. That was until they came to the end of the strip and came upon the locked doors of a place called 'Malfaire'. "Have you ever been here before?" Goten asked, wishing the day were over. He felt severely out of place in almost every store in which they had been and had already had at least one person make a comment on his tail. "No. The doors are locked. Oh, damn. It's one of those places where you have to ring the doorbell to get admitted inside," 17 cursed. He rang the bell anyway. "I hate these places. Salespeople are usually snotty and not very helpful." "So, why are we going in?" "Because," 17 answered, as if that was enough justification. When he saw Goten's skeptical look, he laughed and added, "I'm curious. And it might be fun." There was a light buzzing that signaled the door was temporarily unlocked. 17 grabbed the handle and opened the entrance. Goten followed him. They walked up a few stairs to another door, but this one was open already. Inside, the place was lit better than any of the others while not being too bright. There were all kinds of clothes, some on racks, some folded, and some against the wall. There were changing rooms against one wall, with a three-sided mirror close at hand. There was a curtained off area behind the register, and golden light slipped through the slight opening in the fabric. All in all, it had an entirely different feel than the other stores, being neither too austere nor too kitschy. Nor was it teeming with salespeople. There were only two salesgirls on the floor that they could see. One was behind the register, ringing up another customer. She was tall and thin with boyishly short blue hair and large blue eyes. 17 appraised her quickly, noticing the short, black skirt instantly. How he loved long legs in a skirt. '_Niiice._' The other one was walking towards them. 17 didn't miss a beat, swiftly looking her over. Unlike the other salesgirl, this one was petite yet curvaceous with perfectly tanned skin and flipped-out, shoulder-length blonde hair. He was rather taken in by her almond-shaped green eyes, which were simultaneously appraising them. In a voice that immediately caught 17's notice, though not for anything such as retail, she asked, "Good afternoon, gentlemen. Welcome to Malfaire." "Well. Now I know why there's a lock on the door," 17 said with an appreciative smile. Opal smirked and replied with a single word, "Lesbian." 17 sighed as he shook his head in disappointment, "What a -crime-." Goten looked between the two, not for the first time wondering what some of the words they used meant. He looked back at the lady before him, scrutinizing her. She appeared normal enough... No paws, claws, fangs, or tail. "My name is Opal. How may I assist you today?" Pushing his rejection aside painlessly, 17 gestured to Goten. "He needs to look good. Fix him." "We help. We don't fix," she said, raising a single eyebrow even as she began to take Goten's measurement with a quick look. She looked back at 17 and gave him an even closer look. "Ever seen that movie 'Pretty Woman'?" the android smirked. He pulled out the Capsule Corp credit card and played with it in his hand. To his eyes, it was really flashy and oddly colored, but he knew that it probably reflected Bulma's personality and taste. "Well, we're here to spend an absolutely -obscene- amount of money." "And we'll help you do that. This way, sirs." Opal led them over to one of the front corners of the store, stopping beside a rack of pants. "Now. Will this be for a special occasion, or is this a general makeover?" "General makeover," 17 repeated. His eyes looked over the rack of clothes before looking at the prince again. "Full overhaul. We're looking for, I think... Fitted, yes, but not constrictive in any way. Color. Definitely color. But only things that work with his coloring, pale as he is." "Is there a particular style you're going for?" she asked. She turned to Goten, focusing mostly on him, as he was the customer. "Preppy, sophisticated, classic, scandalous, goth?" "Huh?" Goten sounded. He knew the question, but all the words following it were pretty much a foreign language to him. He turned with slightly wide eyes to 17, whom he hoped would interpret for him. Unfortunately, the android already had his sights settled somewhere else. 17 eyed the blue-haired salesgirl near the register again. He knew he was supposed to be helping Goten. But Goten was a big boy. Just like he was. And if Goten got to shop for evening wear, why couldn't he 'shop' for evening entertainment? Especially since he rather thought that this place could supply both their needs. "Excuse me, but what is -her- name?" "Oh, that's Julia. She's new," Opal replied, looking away from Goten to look at her associate and then at 17. "Well! I think you can take care of our boy here, hmm? I'll... be over there," 17 informed them, already moving towards the young woman as her customer left. He smiled at her, dipping his head forward slightly in greeting. That left the prince and the salesgirl relatively alone. Opal smiled warmly at Goten. "So. No specific genre in mind. Tell me something. Do you see anything in here you -do- like? Perhaps we could start with that." Goten glanced around, somewhat at a loss of where to begin. There was a lot from which to choose, and he had no idea what would be acceptable in this society or culture. Spotting a mannequin he thought looked appropriate, he pointed at it. "I like what that one is wearing." The petite salesgirl studied it for a brief moment and turned back to Goten with that same smile. "Classic it is." Soon, Goten found his arms filled with different kinds of shirts, a few jackets, and pants. Opal directed him to one of the changing rooms and helped him situate the shirts and jackets on the hooks. With a slight frown, Goten shook a pair of the pants out and looked at them. With a slight frown, Goten shook a pair of the pants out and looked at them. "We may have a problem here." "Oh? What's that?" Opal asked, having almost closed the door to allow him to change in privacy. Goten looked at her and unwound his tail from around his waist. He was relieved to see that she didn't even flinch when she saw it, having already been made to feel like it was a deformity in some of the other stores in which he had been. Which, considering that one of the people who had jumped back in revulsion had been a dog-man, was rather disturbing. "Your tail? Not a problem. Just try on all of your pants for now, and if you like them, I'll take them in back and tailor an opening to accommodate you," Opal assured him. "That is... if you don't mind waiting for that, sir." "No. I don't think I'd mind at all," Goten replied with a slight smile. He closed the door and proceeded to start trying on all the items she had suggested. And though it took him a while, when he was done, he was actually rather happy for his selections. For the most part, everything he took in with him, he bought. There were just a few items he thought weren't to his tastes. He handed the pants over to Opal, and the lady was as good as her word. She disappeared behind the curtain and quickly began to mend them to his specifications. Julia started ringing up the sale, folding each article of clothing as she did so while 17 stood close at hand. The android looked between the blue-haired girl and his black-haired companion for a few moments before he asked, "Hey, Goten... Where's Piccolo at right now?" "He's at Yamcha's and Vegeta's," Goten replied, wondering what the android had in mind now. "Really... Hmm..." 17 replied, handing the credit card over to Julia and then producing his cell phone. He flipped it open and quickly dialed a string of numbers. He winked at Goten and then smiled at Julia as he meandered off to the side. "It's 17. Is Piccolo there? ... Let me talk to him. ... Piccolo. Come get your boyfriend. ... Bulma sent us shopping for him with the Capsule Corp credit cards. ... No, that wasn't very bright of her, was it? ... We're in the fashion district. ... What do you mean you don't know where that is? Oh, wait. My mistake. Forgot who I was talking to. ... Cross streets? Um, Third Street and Broadway Avenue. ... Yeah, it's, like... ten blocks from where you are right now. ... And Piccolo, you should hurry. I've got a skirt to chase." Goten overheard that conversation, of course. He quirked an eyebrow at the cybernetic male as he moved back to join them. 17 retorted with a grin. In the prince's mind, he began to notice how drastically different this 17 was from the one he had known. '_Hn. He's a lot like Gohan was. Only, he's smarter than my brother. I would never say it aloud, though, especially where he could hear it as I -know- he'd take it as a compliment, and that's one thing he doesn't need._' Goten shook his head. Piccolo arrived quickly, looking confused for a moment as he tried to figure out how to open the door. Opal, having just finished placing Goten's tailored pants and jeans into a large bag, gazed over at the glass door. Smiling, she inquired, "Is that your boyfriend?" Goten blushed a little but still beamed as he replied, "That's him." "Quite the looker," came the comment. Opal pressed the button to unlock the door, and Piccolo swiftly picked up on the open state, entering immediately. With that same, genuine smile, she greeted him, "Love the sweater." "Thank you, I guess," Piccolo replied. Turning back to Goten and handing him and Piccolo the bags, Opal said, "Now, I've added a couple of catalogs as well as my business card, in case you need anything else. Thank you, and please stop by again." They grabbed the bags, and Goten made it a point to take the credit card away from his blue-eyed companion, which only made the android grin. Goten was really getting annoyed by that grin. Sighing, he nodded to Piccolo. He was more than ready to leave. As they left the building, Piccolo smiled at the shorter male. "Did you enjoy it?" "Hn. It was kind of fun. I enjoyed the salesgirl's help more than I enjoyed 17's company, though," the demi-saiyajin said. "She was nice." "Salespeople are paid to be nice," the taller male returned. He shrugged. "None of the other salespeople were nice. Besides, she knew what she was talking about. When I understood her, that is." "What do you mean?" Piccolo asked. "Just certain words and phrases." "Such as?" "Piccolo," Goten began, finally able to ask someone the meaning of one of the words that had been plaguing him since he heard it. "What's a lesbian?" *** Yamcha turned to his stomach, his eyes avoiding the nightstand that stood right beside his bed and in direct line between him and the still closed window. Resting in a narrow-necked vase, a single rose looked towards him, its dark red petals still mostly closed like lips begging for a kiss. He didn't want to look at it. He didn't want it to be there. But for all that he didn't want, he didn't want to remove it, either. It had been his gift from Vegeta on St. Valentine's Day. Vegeta. Yamcha didn't know what to make of the saiyajin prince. Vegeta had always seemed so hard and cruel, though intelligent. Crafty. Driven. But the scarred human didn't understand what was driving him now. Questions that went without words, much less answers, tumbled through Yamcha's head. He rolled to his side, trying to think, but no position in which he put himself seemed to make him comfortable. '_If I had another person in here... Geta..._' Yamcha closed his eyes, willing the hurt to go away. He was dealing with his loss. He was. But that didn't stop the pain any. With a barely stifled curse of frustration, Yamcha slipped out of bed and grabbed at a pair of well-worn, well-loved sleep pants. He knew he wasn't going to be going to sleep any time soon. Yamcha had been a thief, so he knew how to be silent. But he just didn't care to be quiet as he walked towards his balcony. He knew that Vegeta was probably home, asleep in his bed. It was late. Or rather, it was early morning. Yamcha opened the double doors to the balcony and walked out, missing the glittering eyes watching him. Vegeta had been sleeping on the couch since the first night he had brought Yamcha back to the condo. After he had ordered the human to take a bath, which he had -forced- himself not to watch, he had called up Krillin's wife on her cell phone and told her that he had the missing male. She had thanked him and told him to keep him there until they could pick him up. He had informed her that Yamcha would be staying there, with him, until further notice. And that she was fully in charge of the bar. He knew he was being a bit over protective of the human, but he couldn't help himself. At least he wasn't giving in to his more base desires all the time. He was more than a common animal, after all. He had been sleeping on the couch, though, just in case Yamcha had gotten it into his head to try and escape. And it seemed that the desert bandit was about to do just that. Moving fast, Vegeta slid out of his uncomfortable sleeping arrangement and sidled up behind Yamcha. He took a good look at the vivid brand that was beautifully exposed to him and had to cross his arms over his chest and tuck in his hands to keep from touching it again. "What are you doing?" "Geez, you scared me, Vegeta," Yamcha said as he spun around. "I asked what you were doing." Vegeta couldn't keep the growl out of his voice, or the scowl off of his face. "I can't sleep. I just... wanted some fresh air," Yamcha answered, turning his back on the prince, unintentionally exposing the brand again, and leaned against the railing of his balcony. He took a deep breath and looked towards the sky. It was a clear night, and the cold air only seemed to make the sky seem crisper and more distant. With a sigh, he turned to look over his shoulder at his watcher. "Is that all right with you, your highness?" "You're not planning on... leaving. Are you...?" Vegeta asked, uncrossing his arms. He walked over to lean on the area of railing next to the human, careful not to touch him. Not yet. The prince was well aware of the fact that if he started touching the other male, he wasn't entirely sure he'd be able to stop, and he knew that that wouldn't be beneficial. Not yet, at least. "No," replied Yamcha. He dipped his head, looking at the ground below them, which wasn't all that far off but still a decent distance. He sighed as he looked at Vegeta's profile, while the prince looked towards the sky, as if scanning for a particular object. "Where would I go? Between you, Krillin, and 18, I've got more handlers than I've got friends." Vegeta was quiet for a moment, trying to think on how to respond to that. He looked at Yamcha, meeting the human's gaze before the scarred warrior turned to look at the sky again. Vegeta sighed. He wasn't the 'holding hands' type of person, and that was what it seemed Yamcha wanted. Someone to hold his hand and lead him out of the darkness. Vegeta returned his gaze to the sky, searching for the last remnants of his home planet, not entirely sure he'd be able to see it with his naked eyes. Earlier in the day, Piccolo had come by. Part of the reason was to deliver a package, but Vegeta also knew that the namek had wanted to check in on the human, to see if he was all right. Yamcha had been in the shower at first, which allowed them to talk about him. Vegeta had admitted to Piccolo that he wasn't all that sure of what he was doing; he just knew that it was something he needed to do. He had covered himself by saying that it -was- Yamcha's apartment, but he knew Piccolo wasn't a stupid man. Luckily, Yamcha unwittingly saved the prince from further embarrassment; as the human exited the bathroom, he saw Piccolo and fell into 'host' mode. He had greeted Piccolo warmly and immediately offered him some tea. Much to Vegeta's surprise, though in retrospect he shouldn't have been, Piccolo accepted. "How's Prince Goten?" Yamcha had asked as he put a pot of water on the stove. "He's well," Piccolo had answered as he took a seat at the table, sitting so that his long legs were off to the side instead of trying to fold them -under- the table. "He has been exploring this world to keep himself occupied." "Oh?" Yamcha asked, moving to get some cups. "Where's he been, and what's he done?" "He's been to a few ethnic restaurants, as they didn't have that there. He's found he doesn't care too much for Scottish food, but almost everything else he likes," Piccolo smiled. "He goes out by himself, or do you go with him?" Yamcha asked as he grabbed at a container with the tealeaves. "I go with him sometimes. Sometimes, he wants to go out by himself," Piccolo replied. "He was a spy most of his life, even though he was a prince. He knows how to keep a low profile." Vegeta had watched them talk, his chin resting on his clasped hands. He tried to learn what it was that Piccolo was doing, as he seemed to make Yamcha come out of his depression a bit. The scarred human even managed to laugh a bit at some of the stories Piccolo told. It seemed Goten wasn't the only one adjusting to this new life. Yamcha invited Piccolo to stay for dinner, as it was quickly approaching that hour. Piccolo declined at first, but Yamcha insisted. So, the namek stayed for the meal. Vegeta had been a bit smug about the fact that Yamcha was actually a good cook, something that he himself had not known until Yamcha had taken over the kitchen duty. Afterward, Vegeta did the dishes while Yamcha sat down. The three of them had talked, though Vegeta couldn't remember most of what they said. But he remembered it had been a friendly conversation nonetheless. Their early evening visit had been interrupted by a phone call from 17, who wanted Piccolo to 'come pick up your boyfriend' as they were at a clothing store, and 17 wanted to chase a girl more than he wanted to shop. After Piccolo left, Vegeta heard Yamcha humming a bit as they sat down to watch television. Piccolo wasn't the closest of Yamcha's friends, but the namek was still a friend. "They care. They are your friends, and they show that the only way they now how. They want to take care of you." "That still leaves you as my handler," Yamcha stated. "Trust me, Yamcha. If I were to handle you, I would not have to ask if you were leaving. You wouldn't be able to move, much less walk away," Vegeta retorted, a small, smug smile gracing his features. Yamcha's eyes grew large as he looked quickly at the prince and then away, his cheeks flushing. He opened his mouth to say something, and then found that he couldn't think of a single thing that would possibly make sense. Finally, he settled on a topic he knew was unsafe, but at least it might put Vegeta on the spot. "Why did you give me that rose?" "Tradition." "Excuse me?" "It was that 'heart' day. The one the woman always yelled about when I forgot it," shrugged the saiyajin. "For as long as we were together, I never remembered it. But I did this year. And since flowers, candy, and cards are traditional items to give, I chose a flower. Cards are stupid, and you barely eat regular food, let alone sweets. I doubted you'd care for candy. So... the flower." "But why?" Yamcha reiterated. "You couldn't remember to give Bulma anything, so what made this different?" Vegeta turned to look at the scarred male again, pinning him with his eyes. "You're mine." "Huh." The taller male studied his counterpart for a moment. It was strange to see Vegeta like this. The same, but different. It seemed like he actually -meant- it when he said Yamcha was his, as if he actually believed it. But it wasn't like a true ownership, not like he was a slave. It was just all too... confusing. Yamcha wasn't sure if he hated it as much as he should have, which made him feel all the worse for even thinking about it in the first place. "Do you watch me all the time?" "As much as I deem necessary," came the answer. "And... when do you think you're going to stop?" "Not until I know you're safe without me around," Vegeta stated plainly. "And even then, I will still keep an eye on you." Yamcha gazed blankly at Vegeta, still not believing this was the same man he'd known for so many years. "What's the matter? Can't trust me?" "I trust you," nodded the prince, taking a step closer to Yamcha, "but not with yourself. Not yet." Yamcha could feel the heat radiating off the smaller male's body even in the chill of late February. Some tiny part of him wanted to grab onto him, beg him to make everything just go away. But for the most part, he wanted nothing more than for the saiyajin to make -himself- go away. All at once, he reminded him of Geta. Yet, in that same frame, he was so completely different. Not that that was bad. It was just the opposite, which confused Yamcha all the more. Vegeta could only stare up into Yamcha's chocolate brown eyes, not allowing himself the benefit of touching the other male or saying anything more. He'd already said too much. '_Can't force a miracle,_' he supposed. "You should go back inside." "Why? I like it out here." "You're shivering," he replied, unconsciously reaching out to rub the human's upper arms. But instead of warming Yamcha up, it only made him shake more. "Y-yeah. Maybe I should... go to bed," Yamcha conceded. He left the saiyajin prince standing on the balcony as he returned to his bedroom. Climbing into the bed, it seemed much larger than he remembered it being. '_Still empty._' He sighed deeply as his eyes bored into the darkened room. As empty as his bed seemed now, he somehow didn't feel as alone anymore. Just knowing Vegeta was out there, watching over him in that strangely overprotective way, made him feel safer. Like... it was the only way he knew how to take care of Yamcha. Shaking his head, the human still wondered why Vegeta was going through all the trouble of doing so. Vegeta watched the other male walk away, his expression one of unspoken promise. He could practically smell Yamcha's desire for him, though the human was very adamantly denying it, even to himself. There was also the fact that there was still the emotional scar of 'Geta's' passing, yet another problem. If they ever did manage to become as intimate as Vegeta wanted, would Yamcha see him, or would the ghost of his late lover still haunt him? It was enough to make the prince want to scream and curse. He didn't, though. Instead, he went and lied back down on the sofa. The prince moved so that his hands were behind his head, and the blanket draped loosely over him. He thought about Yamcha, and about how the human would look, sprawled out on his bed asleep. And about how he would look, sprawled out on his bed naked. And about how he would look, sprawled out on his bed waiting for him. Vegeta cursed as his sleep pants became uncomfortably tight. Again. Yamcha didn't hear the soft cursing of the royal saiyajin. He had found a quasi-remedy to his problem. All of the pillows in his room were piled onto one side of the bed, and he was hugging them close, as if they were an actual person. It wasn't as effective as having another warm body there with him, but it did help ease some of his loneliness. It was enough for one night. As he lied there, finally getting comfortable, Yamcha thought about what he was going to do the next day. He had been back for two months, and he thought it was time he started doing things again, time to get his mind off of his loss. '_But what can I do? I'm too old to try and start playing baseball again. And I know I don't want to try and enter any martial arts competitions. So, what does that leave me? What am I good at? Well, other than fucking things up._' Yamcha asked himself. He fell asleep, still pondering the thought.   



	29. Pangs

_Disclaimer: Summer Starr and Deani Bean, here. And no, we don't own DBZ. "If memory serves me correctly," I've already stated that._

_Warning: Guess!_ **Kingdom Come**  
~ Chapter 29 "Class dismissed," Gohan announced. As his class began to quickly vacate the premises, he shouted after them, "Don't forget your papers are due on Monday, and we'll start reviewing for your final!" In the past, some of the students would lag behind to talk with him. But that didn't happen this semester. Word had gotten out through the underground gossip network that Professor Gohan was -not- his usual, cheerful self this semester. And as time wore on, his students came to him less and less in need of advice or help. Even his colleagues didn't want to have anything to do with him this semester. Which was just as well. He was very lucky to have his lecture notes saved up from previous years, as he just wasn't in the mood to do the research it would take to create new ones. He picked up his books and notes, packing his small bag. His mind wasn't on his studies. Or rather, his heart wasn't into it. He sighed as he closed the clasp to his bag. He looked up, ready to leave, when he realized that there was indeed one brave soul who wanted to speak with him. "Yes? What is it?" "Gohan," she said, bowing respectively as she did so, but only to show respect as she was actually above him in the hierarchy of the school's system. In fact, she was the chair of the department, which made her his boss. "May I have a word with you?" "Sure," Gohan replied stiffly, wanting to deny the request but at the same time knowing he was obligated to accept it. "I sat in on class today," she started off, clasping her hands in front of her. "It wasn't the first time I've done so this semester. I've been getting some complaints about your performance this term, and I must say I'm in agreement with the students. To use one of their terms, 'Your game is off.' So, would you care to explain what the problem is?" "I'm sorry, ma'am," Gohan said, bowing in respect while flushing in embarrassed shame. "Yes, I can tell. But I don't suppose that's the answer you want to give me, is it?" "No, ma'am," the demi-saiyajin replied. He sighed as he ran his hand through his hair, which was growing shaggy since he hadn't bothered to have it cut in a while. "My mind... or rather, my heart is dealing with other... issues presently. It's very distracting." "What other issues?" His mind slid back to the beginning of the year when he hadn't left his bedroom except in the middle of the night to grab the leftovers Videl had put away in the refrigerator. All the nights he cried, all the days he dreamed. And when the semester had started and Videl busted down his door to make him go to class, he'd been distant. Though he never spoke about it, all of his time -- class time included -- was spent thinking about that one horrible development that had started with the new year. "Personal ones." "Talk to me, Gohan. I can't help you if you won't talk," she stated, moving to sit at a chair close by. "I don't want to talk about it," Gohan answered. "You must be very frustrated with how your work and personal life are in conflict now." "Yeah. But, it's not like it matters," Gohan said softly. Despite the fact that he didn't particularly trust her, he rather thought it might be cathartic to get even just a small part of his problem off his chest. He pulled up a chair so that he could sit across from his boss, but he didn't actually look her in the face as he began to speak. "It's like this: I know how things are supposed to go, and I know that people are supposed to be content with their lives. But... It's like I found out that everything I thought was true was suddenly wrong. Very, very wrong. And I don't know how to make it right. I can't use physical force. And I can't use any kind of book learning I'm familiar with... I want to fix it and make everything right. But the only person who sees things as being wrong is me, so if I'm the only one who's seeing it as wrong, does it make the situation wrong, or does it make me wrong?" "Tell me. For everyone else involved in this situation, are they happy with it?" "Yes. Yes, they're very happy with it." "And it's healthy." "Yes. It's all fine. It's just... it's wrong. The entire situation is wrong!" "Why?" "Because! Because they're wrong. They're both wrong." The department head pondered this for a moment. Clearly, Gohan's problem was relationship-associated. Perhaps to do with his wife? Was his wife cheating on him, and he found out about it? Or maybe... "Because you're not a part of it?" Gohan pressed his lips in a tight line, his eyes practically boring a hole into the floor. He didn't want to answer her. He couldn't. He wasn't willing to cross that line. "Because they don't include you in it?" "... I don't want to talk anymore." "So be it, Gohan," she replied, having learned a great deal by what was said and what wasn't said. She rather thought that she knew him well, so this semester's departure from his normal self had her worried. "Well. This semester is almost over, and then you'll have a nice, long summer break to straighten out your... issues. If, however, you come back in the fall and things have not changed, we -will- meet with the dean and discuss your future here. So. I suggest you get your act together. Is that understood?" "Yes, ma'am," Gohan nodded, standing up as she did. "Good," she said, bowing slightly again. "Go home, Gohan. Get your life in order." Instead of going to his office like he normally would have done, and instead of going to his home as his boss had ordered him to do, Gohan remained in the room for some time. He didn't know who to talk to about his situation. How could he tell someone, anyone, that he couldn't stand his wife? They had separate rooms for a reason. He didn't like her hands on him. He didn't like her voice, even when it was a low purr whispered in his ear. He had married her to please his family and hated himself ever since. If he had been able to choose his own life mate, he would have chosen Piccolo. He had loved Piccolo with his entire soul and would have done anything the namek asked without question. He still felt that way. Yet for some inexplicable reason, they never progressed much into the physical side of their unspoken relationship. But they had kissed. And they had held each other. And that had been enough until his mother insisted he get serious about Videl. Gohan sat down again as he thought of kissing the namek. He let out a soft groan as the only mental picture that came to mind was of that moment when Piccolo stood kissing Prince Goten. He remembered how Piccolo tasted, as if it were yesterday. It wasn't yesterday, though. It had been a long, long time since he had been able to give in to his desires. The professor placed his head on his folded forearms. He knew he had betrayed Piccolo by bowing to the wishes of his family. But he had always hoped that, one day... That day hadn't come, though. And it seemed that that day never would. His body began a fine trembling as Gohan fought back the tears. He had tried to make everyone happy, but no one had been. He was a coward. He knew it. He didn't want to fight. He wanted to live in peace, and in happiness, but those two things -- those two simple things -- were denied to him. Worst of all, his actions had caused Piccolo to find someone else, someone who he obviously loved. Now, no matter what Gohan did, he knew that he would always be alone. He hadn't gone back to visit with Piccolo since he had returned from the parallel world; it had been too... well, it was awkward for him. Gohan rather thought that it would be best if he didn't go see him, as it was just a painful reminder of what he couldn't have. But he needed to. He needed to see Piccolo. He was the only person who understood him. He was the only person who knew what it was like to be denied. Only... Piccolo wasn't denied anymore. He had someone who loved him and whom he loved. He was happy. And it wasn't Gohan who made him happy. That thought only made Gohan feel even more alone and abandoned. Checking the clock, the demi-saiyajin stood up. It was almost time for the cleaning crew to lock up the room. He needed to get out of there. '_I need to get my life in order..._' *** The bass drum pulsating through Vegeta's club was threatening to give its owner a headache. Pulling back the sleeve on his left arm, he raised his wrist to read the time on his watch. '_I can't believe it's only 10 o'clock. Can't 17 play something slower? Grrr. I'm going to blow up those fucking speakers._' He knew that the music wasn't the reason for the headache, but that didn't stop the noise from making it worse. He knew the real reason for his headache was Yamcha. Not too long ago, he had finally caught on to the song that Yamcha was always humming. Of course, he hadn't realized what it was until he had heard the human actually singing it. He had come home one night, early from the club, and found the entire condo cast in darkness. At first, Vegeta had thought nothing of that small fact, as it had still been late, and the scarred human had taken it upon himself to become active again, succeeding in occupying himself enough so that he was rather tired by 11 at night. But on that night, he had found Yamcha was still up. He was sitting on a chair, leaning on the railing of the balcony. And he was singing. Vegeta had walked softly to the boundaries between the balcony and the living room, simply listening to the almost forgotten lyrics. He had never thought to actually hear that song sung by anyone else, even if he had heard it in his dreams. When it was over, Vegeta had, without thinking, informed his companion, "That was beautifully done." "Vegeta!" Yamcha spun around, nearly tripping as he more or less fell out of his chair. "What are you doing here? Did you actually hear me?" "Yes, I heard you," Vegeta replied, leaning up against the doorframe. "I enjoyed hearing you sing it." "Oh. Well..." Yamcha flushed. "It was the only song Geta taught me. It's... just a lullaby." Vegeta stood straight at that, his eyes glinting dangerously in the pale light of the clear night. "It is not -just- a lullaby." "Huh?" Yamcha asked, taken aback by how quickly Vegeta had taken offense, though he knew that the prince had a short temper. "That song is -not- a lullaby to begin with," Vegeta snorted before he smirked. "It's a betrothal song." "What?!" Yamcha exclaimed, jerking back. "It's... a custom. And you singing it -- out in public, I might add -- just confirms my earlier statements. You are mine," Vegeta took a single step out onto the balcony, stepping close to the ex-bandit. "Like hell I am," Yamcha retorted. "I thought it was a lullaby." "Now you know otherwise," Vegeta answered him, his voice soft. It took all of his control not to grab the taller male. Not to touch him. "So, unless you want to publicize our engagement, -don't- go singing that in a place where others might be able to hear. And unless you want to admit that you -are- mine, don't sing it so that -I- can hear you." Yamcha glared down at him, and bit out, "Don't worry. You won't be hearing me sing it. Ever." And then he slid past Vegeta, who was willing to let him retreat, and walked back into their home and back into his room. Vegeta had watched him go. That was the beginning of when his headache started, and even though the incident had occurred several weeks beforehand, the ache still hadn't let up. Vegeta spotted Piccolo and Goten in the crowd beneath him, speaking with some blonde girl. Catching Piccolo's eyes, he gave the namek a sharp nod in greeting, which the other man returned. Suddenly, the beat changed slightly, and Vegeta froze. He recognized that particular piece, appropriately nicknamed 'The Headache Song' due to its high-pitched and speedy melody. He absolutely -hated- it. '_I thought I told him never to play that goddamned song again!_' Swiftly rushing down the stairs towards the DJ booth, Vegeta pushed by his son and Chibi grinding on the dance floor, effectively breaking up their raunchy dance style. "17!" Vegeta shouted over the music. "Don't play that song!" "Why?" 17 replied. "Everyone likes it." "Take a look out into the crowd and see if you can pick out something tall, green, and easily able to kick your mechanical ass!" The raven-haired android peered out among the masses and quickly spotted Piccolo, who he knew to have sensitive ears. Even though his excellent eyesight could see that the taller male appeared to be wearing earplugs of some sort, he had resolved not to give the namek a reason to try to injure him, so he concurred with Vegeta. "All right, all right. I'll mix it to something else. Now, get out of my booth." "It is -my- booth, android," Vegeta hissed, grabbing his arm roughly. "You'd be wise to remember that." 17 jerked his arm out of the saiyajin's grasp, rolling his eyes. Ignoring the unspoken threat, he went about his job. In a few seconds, he had removed the offensive music track out of rotation. "Happy, now?" "Get rid of that song. I don't ever want to hear it in my club again. Is that understood?" "Fine, fine, fine. You'll never hear it in here again," 17 replied. As he watched Vegeta stomp away, he smirked. '_But that doesn't mean I won't play it when you -aren't- here._' Vegeta made his way back through the crowd and over to the bar, snagging himself a glass of scotch rather than trusting one of his employees to pour it for him. Taking a swig, he saw Piccolo give Goten a kiss and then head for the front door. The short saiyajin moved over to Goten and the girl with whom he was speaking. Nodding to Goten, he asked, "Where did he run off to?" "Home," answered the younger male. "He was up early today taking care of some things for Dende." "Hn," Vegeta replied, as he turned to look at the girl for a moment. The blonde female with Goten scrutinized Vegeta quickly. "You're... the owner, aren't you?" "I am," he nodded. "I think I know a friend of yours. Used to come into my shop all the time. He came in just the other day," she said, "which surprised me because I hadn't seen him in, like, a year." "Who are you?" Vegeta asked surprised, because he didn't have that many friends. Or at least, he didn't have anyone who would volunteer that information without some kind of fighting being involved. "Opal," smiled the petite blonde. "I'm the sales manager at Malfaire on Third Street." "Vegeta. I think I've been there," he commented. "With the big, round red couch." "That's the one." "So what friend is it that you think you know?" Opal looked pensive for a second, then said, "He's a baseball player--or he -used- to be a baseball player. Good-looking guy. He has a scar? On his face." She ran her finger down her face, to indicate what the scar looked like. "But what is his name..." "Yamcha," Vegeta managed. "Right! Yamcha," she smiled. "I was telling him he should check out this club, and then he told me his friend owned the place. Spoke very highly of you." "He did? What did he say?" demanded the saiyajin. Trunks and Chibi abruptly popped out of the crowd and into the group, cutting off any response the blonde was about to make. "Hey, Goten," Trunks greeted. "Are you sure you don't want to dance with us? I mean, now that Piccolo's gone and all..." "No," came the curt response. Chibi grinned at their blonde companion. "How about you? You wanna dance with us?" "As long as it doesn't bother you that I'm gay," Opal answered as she tried to figure out if this new person and Goten were twins. "Not at all," Chibi laughed. "So are we." "Oh. Well, in that case, I'd love to," she laughed. "Great!" replied Trunks, grabbing her hand. He waved to Goten and Vegeta. "See you later." She managed to wave to Goten as she disappeared into the crowd with the two males. Vegeta watched her go, biting his lip. He wanted to know what Yamcha had said about him. At home, Yamcha seemed to hate him. So how was it in public the human spoke well of him? Vegeta scowled. His headache was getting worse. Goten looked at the shorter male. He could see Vegeta's confusion and knew that it was there because of Opal's reference to Yamcha. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that Vegeta had feelings for the human, though Goten surmised that this attraction only began -after- Yamcha wasn't a constant presence in his life. He crossed his arms. "So, Vegeta... How is Yamcha?" "He's not holed up in his room, crying, anymore," Vegeta stated, taking a swig of his drink again. He turned to look at the younger male as he spoke, just so that he could be heard over the noise most everyone else called music. The demi-saiyajin raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What does he do all day now?" "He goes out. I don't know where exactly," answered the older male. "Baseball games or something. I can usually hear crowds and cheering in the background." "In the background?" Goten asked, moving with Vegeta away from the dance floor and towards a quieter area. One that wasn't so crowded. He had gradually been learning to relax a bit since he came to this dimension. He had learned that there wasn't a need to be on constant alert. Things were peaceful here, for the most part, and almost everyone with whom he had come into contact was more than trusting with him. It was as if they thought that there wasn't such a thing as evil. He knew better, though, and knew that no matter how relaxed he was, he wasn't quite capable of relaxing all the way. "On the phone," Vegeta nodded. He preferred it upstairs, where there was room to breathe and room to move. Downstairs, on the dance floor level, there wasn't even room to think. "You... talk to him on the phone while he's... out and about?" Goten asked, unable to keep the amusement out of his voice. "Cell phone," clarified Vegeta. "He's supposed to call me every other hour on the hour." The young male couldn't hide his smirk. "Well. I see you're still obsessive over his care." "I am not obsessive," the saiyajin grounded out. "As you say," Goten bowed, as if giving the other prince his due. Goten stood next to Vegeta along the catwalk railing of the older man's nightclub, gazing down into the throngs of bodies moving to the energetic beat of the music. His eyes drifted over the crowd to 17 in the DJ booth. Smirking, he could see that some of the people near him were more interested in their DJ than his music. Currently, a tall, thin young girl had herself draped on the android. Squinting his eyes, Goten recognized her as Julia, the other salesgirl in Opal's shop. "17 seems to be quite popular," the demi-saiyajin commented. "Yes. Very popular," Vegeta nodded. "Highly selective in the music he chooses but not so much in the company he keeps. Keeps him very popular, indeed." "What do you mean?" "Sex is his favorite pastime." "Oh." Vegeta glared at him for a moment, still unable to let go of the comment about his 'obsession'. "So, what do -you- do all day while Piccolo is out helping save the world from the trivial disasters that threaten it?" "I work for your ex-wife," Goten replied, moving to sit down at a corner table, with his back to one of the walls. He made sure to leave another wall open for Vegeta, so that they could both watch the rest of the area around them. Even though they were vastly more powerful than anyone who might have given them trouble, it was always best to remain alert and able to see an attack coming. Even a weaker opponent could take the strongest fighter down if there was an element of surprise involved. "I design houses for her." "Oh? You can actually tolerate that harpy?" Vegeta asked with an almost affectionate smirk. As much as he liked to fight with her, and as much as she hurt him, he knew he had hurt her as well, and that their fighting was about the only way they ever managed to show affection for each other. "She's... an interesting person to work for," Goten replied. Truth to tell, sometimes she scared him, but it wasn't as if he was frightened of her overpowering him. More like, he was afraid that, at times, she was quite insane. But then, she'd run off and start to create some miracle machine that he would never have thought the world needed. "But I only work for her a few hours of the day. The rest of the time, if I'm not with Piccolo, I explore or watch television, trying to learn some of the human culture." "Oh, and what have you found?" Vegeta asked with a smirk of his own, thinking of all the shows out there that would give the younger male all kinds of wrong ideas about the world around them. "I've learned that I never want to be on a talk show," Goten said with a stern nod. "And heroes never really die." Vegeta blinked at him a moment, and then smiled. "Hn. Interesting things you've discovered." "Yeah. But... I rather think I'd prefer a good sparring session to watching another soap opera. In fact, I know I'd rather spar against someone far stronger than me before I watch another episode of 'Passions'," Goten said, eyeing the saiyajin next to him. "That bad, huh?" Vegeta snickered. "Don't you and Piccolo spar?" "Yes. And he's helping me become a better fighter, as well," Goten nodded. "When he's home and willing. Speaking of home and willing... what do -you- do when Yamcha's not at home?" Vegeta narrowed his eyes at the insolence of his companion. True, for the first time in his life, he wasn't training every day. In fact, it had been well over a few months since he -had- been training. He felt it was best to divert attention away from himself by asking, "Is Piccolo gone all that much that you want a new partner?" "Quite the contrary. He's home a lot," Goten replied, blushing profusely. He cleared his throat as Vegeta grinned at him, knowing the elder male understood that while Piccolo -was- home a lot, they weren't using that time to simply spar. "And we do spar a bit. But, I'd still like the opportunity to learn from someone else as well as Piccolo." "Hn." Vegeta began, "Well, I can't believe I'm saying this, but I do believe you have the best teacher you could find already training with you." "What about you? You're supposedly strong. Capable," Goten stated, well aware of how much pride Vegeta had to have swallowed to admit that Piccolo was better at something than he was. "I've neither the patience nor the skill," Vegeta returned. "And honestly, I don't have the inclination. He's the one who spent practically years training Gohan. He's spent a fair amount of time teaching the two brats, even if was just temporary. I swear, if I had to train either of them, much less both of them at the same time, I'd have just signed over this world and said good riddance." "Still," Goten sighed, "it would be good to see how someone else fought." The saiyajin turned that over in his head. Admittedly, what the younger male was saying was true. Despite the namek's strength, Vegeta knew that as far as skill alone went, there was no better teacher than Piccolo, as he relied on that more than anything. But brute strength could overcome skill if it was strong enough. Yes, Goten did have a point. "All right." "All right?" the demi-saiyajin asked. "Heh. You know...," Vegeta said, inwardly pleased at the prospect of getting back into the routine of fighting again. "I think I'd rather enjoy myself, kicking your ass with Piccolo around and him knowing I was doing it. And him knowing that you asked for it." "Heh. Don't be so sure you'd beat me," Goten grinned. "Keep in mind, you're going to be getting phone calls every two hours. I guess that will be a good thing, as it will allow me the opportunity to kick -your- ass, and then have Yamcha come pick you up." Vegeta's smirk suddenly turned into a frown. Pulling up on his sleeve again to see his watch, he saw that it was a quarter after 11. He grabbed at the cell phone clipped to his waist and flipped it open. His scowl deepened. "What's wrong?" inquired Goten. Noticing the look on Vegeta's face and the phone in his hand, he put two and two together. "Did you miss his call?" "He didn't call," Vegeta groused. Pressing the first speed-dial number on his phone, he heard it ringing and ringing until Yamcha's voice mail picked up. He shut the phone angrily without breaking it. "I have to go." *** It was raining, heaven's tears falling to earth and mingling with those of the demi-saiyajin across from him. Piccolo stood under the downpour, at a total loss. He had left Goten at the club, feeling Gohan's presence nearby and knowing that his former pupil was upset. He could feel the young man's confusion even through the distance that separated them and even through the static that was the rest of the world. He and Gohan had been close, once. But even after all that time, there was still a bond between them. Gohan was still his friend. So, Piccolo knew he had to see what was troubling him. Strangely, it had seemed as if Gohan were trying to find him, as the demi-saiyajin had been flying straight towards him. They met up in the sky, almost halfway between Vegeta's club and the university. And there they floated. Gohan tried to speak, his mouth opening and closing, but he couldn't find the words he wanted to say. Finally, he gave up and simply shook his head as he began to cry, hugging himself as he did so. "Gohan," began Piccolo. He took in the state of disarray in which the demi-saiyajin was, from the completely rain-soaked clothing to the drenched mop of ebony hair to the tears the rain could not mask. "What are you doing out here?" "I was looking for you," he answered, drinking the sight of Piccolo dressed in normal clothes like a drunkard would his alcohol. "Well, I figured out that much," Piccolo stated. He smirked a bit to take the edge off of his words, fully aware of the mental and emotional fragility that his companion suffered. Gohan gave him a half-hearted smile. "Still that in tune with me, huh?" "Old habits die hard," admitted the namek. "Do you need to talk to me?" "Can we go somewhere?" Gohan asked, visibly shaking. Just hearing Piccolo's voice was soothing. "Just... somewhere. Please." "What about your office? That's nearby," Piccolo suggested. Gohan nodded his head vehemently, before he took off in that direction, Piccolo right beside him. It felt good to be like that again, side by side, flying. But it was indeed a short flight and over far sooner than Gohan would have liked. They landed on the cobblestone sidewalk before Gohan produced the key to allow them into the warm, dry interior of the building. They walked in silence towards the demi-saiyjin's office, both of them trying to collect their thoughts and trying to figure out what to say. Piccolo closed the door behind him and turned to see Gohan stepping out of his wet shoes and socks, and tossing his wet shirt to the back of the chair behind his desk to dry. There were other, more comfortable chairs around the room and a fluffy couch against the wall. Piccolo opted for one of the chairs, sitting with one ankle propped up on his knee. Gohan sat on the couch, his head lowered, his hands clasped in front of him, and his elbows resting on his knees. The pale-skinned professor looked very young at that moment. All at once, Piccolo broke the uncomfortable silence. "You're going to have to tell me what's wrong. I can't help you if you won't tell me." "My life is falling apart," Gohan stated. "I... I don't think I understand," Piccolo spoke softly, as Gohan fell quiet. "My mother is raising my daughter. Videl and I have been sleeping in different bedrooms for the past several years. I'm in danger of losing a job that means a lot to me. I lost my best friend for a year, but now, he's back, and he has someone else," Gohan rattled off. He didn't think about what he was saying; he just knew he had to say it. All of it. And he knew that he could trust Piccolo; no matter what else happened, he knew he would always be able to trust Piccolo. "Gohan...," Piccolo said. It was the only thing he could think of to say. How had his friend come to such a state? The tears began to fall again, but they didn't stop the demi-saiyajin from continuing. "I know I betrayed you. And I know I never should have married Videl. And I know that you deserve to be happy, regardless of whether or not I'm happy. And I know I don't deserve to be happy after I did what I did." "Wait...," Piccolo tried, sitting forward. "I know you love him," Gohan interrupted. That hurt. That hurt to admit. He still didn't want to believe it, that Piccolo had fallen for someone else. His tears fell freely, and he didn't bother wiping them away anymore. "I saw the way you looked at him. And the way you kissed him. He's... He makes you happy. And I know you deserve that. I really do. But I hate it. And I hate myself for hating it." "Gohan, stop..." With every word that Gohan said, the demi-saiyajin's control broke a little bit more, and the green male was afraid that by the end of the tirade there wasn't going to be enough left of friend to piece together. "No, I have to say this. I can't stop yet." Gohan brought his head up and looked Piccolo directly in his eyes. "I am so sorry for everything I've done to you. I'm so sorry I fucked everything up. I never wanted it to be like this. I love you, Piccolo. I have always loved you. And I'm not going to stop. I can't." Before Piccolo could do or say anything else, Gohan lowered his head again. The younger male's tears soon drove him to his knees, falling off of the couch. Piccolo was at a loss as to what to do. He had never felt so incredibly helpless in his life. '_This is not happening. This cannot be happening. What the -hell- am I supposed to do -now-?_' He tried to talk to Gohan, but as soon as he opened his mouth, he found that he didn't have a thing to say. Gohan wasn't paying any attention to the turmoil he was causing in the green warrior, as he was too wrapped up in his own pain. Still crying, he leaned forward, resting his head on Piccolo's lap. He closed his tear-filled eyes as he felt the namek rest a hand on his head, wanting the contact more than he wanted anything else. The feel of Piccolo petting his hair and head soothed him some, so that he was able to catch his breath. "I'm so sorry. Don't hate me. Please, don't hate me. I couldn't bear it if you hated me." "Shhh," Piccolo said, managing to scoop up the large male in his arms. Holding the demi-saiyajin in a way that he never would have while they were training all those years ago, he cradled Gohan to him, as if the tall adult was nothing more than a child. He tucked Gohan's head into the curve of his neck, kissing his forehead lightly as he began to rock him. In turn, Gohan clutched at his still wet clothes. He held the scholar to him tightly, rocking back and forth. "I know, Gohan. I knew. Shhh. I don't hate you. I could never hate you." "I love you, Piccolo," Gohan whispered, over and over again, as if it was a mantra or prayer. He wasn't even fully aware of saying it, he just felt better each time he did. His tears were slowing in their course, and he felt safe and content for the first time in a very, very long time. And if he could fool himself into thinking that that moment would last forever, he was sure that he might even be happy. "Shhh." Piccolo tried not to listen to what he was saying. He had wanted to hear Gohan say those words for so long. But his timing couldn't have possibly been worse. Running his fingers lightly through the younger man's hair, Piccolo knew he'd always feel something for Gohan; he'd spent so much of his life loving him that he couldn't fathom stopping altogether. However, he was no longer in love with him. He was in love with Goten. Outside, the rain was still falling. *** Vegeta was angry. And he was wet. And he was worried. And he was just getting home, from the nightclub. It was the first place he was checking, and he wanted it to be the only place he was checking. With his heart beating in his chest, harder and faster than it did when he was in mortal combat, he burst in to the condo. Yamcha looked up from where he was laying on the couch. The rest of the house was cast in complete darkness, but the television was on. Yamcha was in his sleep pants and held the remote control in his hand. Glancing over to the digital clock on the disc player, he read the time. "It's 11:27." "You didn't call," Vegeta stated, ignoring Yamcha's announcement of the time. He shut the door with barely a flick of the wrist, mindful that he had to keep his temper under control. "Twenty-seven minutes," the human continued. "Pretty late, considering your club can't be more than five blocks away." "You were supposed to call at 11," responded the saiyajin, folding his arms over his chest. "Oh, I know," Yamcha said, turning back to look at the television. Vegeta waited to see if he would say anything more, but when Yamcha didn't, he asked, "Why didn't you call when you were supposed to?" "I just wanted to see how long it'd take you to come find me if I didn't call." "... Is that supposed to be funny?" Vegeta growled, allowing his anger to show. "Well, I'm amused," Yamcha retorted dryly, still laying down. "You mean you have me half-worried out of my mind just because you wanted to yank my chain?!" The saiyajin's voice rose with each word, but he held his temper in check as best as he could. He knew that he would have to keep his temper under control. This game of seduction was mostly a game of strategy, and Vegeta was almost to the point of giving up. Either give up or force the issue. But he didn't want to force the issue! He wanted Yamcha willing. "You say that like it's a bad thing." "You--you--you--ARGH!" Vegeta stomped past Yamcha into his room, slamming the door shut, though not hard enough to break anything. Yamcha sat there for a few minutes, and after not hearing any more sounds coming from Vegeta's room, he went over to the door. He knocked once and leaned forward, trying to listen in. He had expected the prince to get a bit testy at having been snubbed. He hadn't expected him to be so angry. After a moment's more thought, Yamcha figured that the shorter male was also hurt by his actions, though he wasn't sure why. "Vegeta?" "Go away!" "Vegeta... I didn't think you'd take it so hard," Yamcha reasoned. "I said, go away!" "Look, I'm sorry, okay?" apologized the human. When he didn't hear anything again, he leaned his back up against the door. '_Crap._' Vegeta was sitting on the floor against the foot of his bed. He had his forehead resting on his fists, but he perked up at Yamcha's apology. He had never had anyone apologize to him. For anything. "What?" "I said I was sorry. I didn't think you'd take it so hard," Yamcha sighed. "I mean, I'm not about to do anything stupid. I--" Vegeta yanked open the door. Yamcha, unprepared for the act, had most of his weight resting on the piece of wood, and when it disappeared from behind him, he fell backwards. As Vegeta was behind him, the prince easily caught the ex-thief, but that meant they both fell to the ground. Yamcha quickly turned over where he was laying, but he didn't get off of Vegeta. Instead, he was more or less on all fours over the shorter male. Vegeta rose up on his elbows, his dark eyes full of confusion. They were so close to each other, their faces mere inches apart, that Yamcha felt burned by the heat radiating off of the prince. They stared at each other for a moment, waiting for the other to react first. Vegeta felt his pulse pounding in his throat and knew that he was trembling. He wanted to reach up and pull Yamcha down to him. He wanted it so badly it was physical. '_Fuck it. I'll deal with the consequences later._' He narrowed his eyes and leaned up slowly, brushing his lips under the other male's. Yamcha gasped at the delicate caress, surprised by it and by the sudden flash of heat that flared through his entire body at the contact. In retaliation to Vegeta's move, Yamcha dipped his head and captured the prince's lips with his, pressing them together for a moment. In that moment, his heart rate accelerated and his body began to hum. Vegeta's eyes flew open before closing to slits. He couldn't believe Yamcha was kissing -him-! Or was he? Before the prince had time to mull the thought over, Yamcha's tongue was slipping across the seam of his lips, and Vegeta couldn't deny the other male's request. Yamcha pressed forward, dipping his tongue into the heat of Vegeta's mouth, savoring the prince's flavor. He fairly purred as he felt Vegeta return the kiss, matching his hunger. He felt fingers running through his hair before cupping the back of his head, tilting his head in a different angle. He was happy to oblige, as long as he got to play first. He broke the kiss for a moment, taking Vegeta's lower lip between his teeth. Vegeta, the proud Prince of All Saiyajins, whimpered. He burned. He wanted. His blood was like lava as it flowed through his body, burning him from the inside out. He had wanted this for so long, to feel the flesh the phantoms and dreams had promised. But to his disappointment, Yamcha suddenly pulled away. Yamcha blinked glazed eyes down at him, surprised at the sound, before blushing a shade of crimson Vegeta had never seen on any human. The scarred human began to stammer an apology, though he was pretty sure that it wasn't coming out in any kind of discernable or decipherable way. He moved off of Vegeta, falling back instead of standing up like he had been planning to do. Vegeta sat up, watching the human's lips moving, but his pulse was pounding so loudly that he couldn't hear what was being said. With a sigh, he leaned forward and placed a single finger on Yamcha's lips, silencing him. When he was sure that the human would remain quiet, he removed his finger. But then, there was only silence between them. Yamcha licked his lips as Vegeta removed his finger, flashing his tongue out before the prince had moved the digit far enough away. The short saiyajin closed his eyes a moment, before sliding them back open. The desert bandit's brow creased as he realized with a start that Vegeta tasted... different. He was different from Geta. He had known that Vegeta and Geta were different. This just went to prove it further. After an unbearable amount of time had passed with no one moving or talking, Yamcha couldn't take it anymore. Blushing, he murmured, "I'm sorry. Again." "Don't apologize to me. I should be apologizing to you," Vegeta said as he stood up, offering his hand down to Yamcha. It was a gesture he didn't make often. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he -had- made it. "What? Why?" Yamcha asked, taking the proffered hand. When he was up, he noticed that Vegeta held onto his hand just slightly longer than needed, which made him blush delicately. "The two brats... They used the dragonballs and... wished that someone would know what was happening wherever you were," Vegeta remarked, turning partially away from his human companion. "In... the other dimension." "Yes," Vegeta nodded, looking towards the ground. The prince knew Yamcha had a right to know, though. "So, someone saw everything? Knew exactly what was happening?" Yamcha asked, not sure what that had to do with anything, or why that would be a reason for Vegeta to apologize. "In a manner of speaking." He had walked a year in another man's shoes, and only now was he stumbling so badly that he wasn't sure he'd be able to regain his footing. "What does that mean?" "They weren't very... specific... when they made their wish." "What happened? Who knew?" Yamcha practically demanded, worried that someone might have hurt themselves or caused hurt to themselves because of what they saw in the other dimension. Vegeta turned to look at Yamcha again, his dark eyes confused yet piercing at the same time. "I knew."   



	30. Triangle

_Disclaimer- Please see the previous 29 fucking chapters._

_Warnings- Please see the previous 29 fucking chapters._ **Kingdom Come**  
~ Chapter 30 Vegeta sat at the table across from Goten, stuffing his face. He decided the younger prince was a decent cook, though not as good as Piccolo, strangely enough. But Goten was a quick learner, and since he loved the Food Channel, he'd taken to cooking pretty well. '_Better than the woman's, at least,_' he thought. It still amused the saiyajin to think about Piccolo cooking. He'd been taken aback, at first, as he was pretty sure that nameks only drank water for sustenance. Apparently, that just wasn't so. Vegeta had even asked him where he'd learned to cook. "You don't think Chichi was around the whole time cooking for Goku and Gohan when we were training, do you?" Piccolo had said. The tall warrior had further elaborated slightly, and truth be known, it made sense. He knew, after all, that Piccolo was the fastest learner amongst them all, and the fact that he had picked up cooking quickly didn't surprise him as much as the fact that Piccolo had picked up cooking in the first place. A flick of a brown tail caught the saiyajin's eye, and he broke out of his reverie to look at the demi-saiyajin prince across from him. He and Goten had been sparring for the past six weeks, and it felt good to be back in the habit. He only sparred in the afternoons, though, as he tended to go to his club and view the happenings until it closed. That meant he was sleeping in later than to which he was accustomed. But the time of the matches didn't concern either of them anymore. Not since Piccolo started working as a doorman for Vegeta. It had been an interesting idea, one that Vegeta had been thinking about since Piccolo's first appearance at his club. He knew that Piccolo was strong, but he had been suppressing his chi that night. Even so, the crowd parted for the green man wherever he went, and he somehow managed to be an island surrounded by a small sea of space in the usually packed first floor. The prince knew that Goten was leading an increasingly busy life, so the namek did have time to kill. And since the demi-saiyajin's business schedule was flexible, Piccolo would want a schedule equally as flexible. The fact that he had gone through over two-dozen doormen in the past year also played a part in his plan, and he knew that Piccolo, if committed to the job, wouldn't give a horrible excuse to quit as most of the others did. Piccolo would never say, "I'd really like to stay and work for you... but I can't. I've got the chance to be a stand-in for the next Mr. Satan movie!" With the addition of Piccolo as his doorman, the club had slowly been transforming into something it hadn't been before. He still wasn't sure what that something else was, but he wasn't about to complain or to question it. He was still making a profit. Though, he didn't really know what to do with that profit anymore. The saiyajin prince shook his head, droplets of water spraying everywhere. Everyday after they sparred, they returned to Piccolo's and Goten's home to shower and to eat. Which was how and when Vegeta discovered the discrepancies between the demi-saiyajin's and the namek's cooking skills. Out of nowhere, Goten asked, "So, did Piccolo and Gohan used to fuck or what?" Which caused Vegeta to spray the water he had been drinking all over the floor next to him. "You -are- cleaning that up, right?" the demi-saiyajin further inquired, raising his eyebrows. Once he'd recovered, Vegeta finally sputtered out, "What did you just ask me?" "I asked if you were going to clean up the water you just spit all over my floor." The younger man hid his grin behind the action of taking a bite out of a large piece of bread. "No, before that," Vegeta retorted, though his voice still sounded a bit strained, even to him. "Oh. I asked if Piccolo and Gohan used to fuck. But I just said that to get your attention." "Well, it worked," the shorter male replied. He wasn't sure if the younger male was or wasn't serious about wanting to discuss the namek's sex life, or love life, or however anyone wanted to phrase it. He had done a lot of things in his many years of life, but gossip wasn't really one of them. Granted, he had given information in the past. But that was different. That wasn't as... embarrassing. "I know they didn't, by the way," Goten informed his royal companion. He grinned as Vegeta looked at him, but the smile quickly disappeared. "But I was hoping you could help fill in the blanks. You've known them for a long time, haven't you?" "I have," Vegeta agreed cautiously. "What can you tell me about their... relationship?" Goten asked, trying to be careful in how he phrased the question. "That's a question for Piccolo. You should be asking him." "I don't want to embarrass him by calling his past relationships, whatever they might be, into question. Besides, you're here, Piccolo isn't, and it's bugging me now," Goten sighed, leaning back in his chair. He had been wondering about it for the past few weeks, truthfully. Ever since the night that Piccolo came home and... When Piccolo came home late, after leaving the club early, Goten had been in the shower. Piccolo had joined him, but they had simply bathed together, touching each other. There had been nights when there had been no sex of any kind, but that didn't mean tactile affection was missing. And this was one of those nights. Goten had asked where Piccolo had been, and why he had been so late. The larger green male had answered and answered honestly. He had been with Gohan, trying to help the younger man deal with the fact that things change. After they had showered, they had dried off and climbed into bed. Goten automatically moved in to be close with Piccolo, wrapping his tail around the taller male's leg. He remembered how Piccolo pulled him close; holding him tightly far longer than he usually did, as if the young prince was the only defense against some threat. It had been the first night that Goten realized that while he loved Piccolo and trusted him completely, and that Piccolo loved and trusted him and was completely loyal, there was a complication. Or rather, complications. The other demi-saiyajins. Vegeta could understand that for the most part. He'd sooner ask one of Yamcha's other friends about him rather than Yamcha himself. The objectivity of an uninvolved party was always safer. "All right. But I don't know any details." "That's fine," Goten replied sitting forward, eager for any information he could get. "So, what do you want to know?" "Do you know how... close they were?" "Piccolo died for Gohan once. Or twice...," Vegeta began, trying to think back. He tried to remember his first appearance on the planet known as Earth, and then the traveling to Planet Namek. And then the times of crisis thereafter. "No, I think it was just that one time. They were best friends from childhood, but only after Piccolo stopped trying to destroy Earth. Or take over the world. Something." "Piccolo tried to destroy this planet?" Goten asked, more than a bit surprised by this new piece of information. No one else had bothered to mention it to him. "Yeah. Back when he was still the Big Bad," Vegeta smirked, an evil glint to his eyes. "Then I came along, and he joined forces with the 'heroes'. That's when he died for Gohan, by the way. He was just a kid." "Ah. I see." Goten paused for a moment, trying to figure out how to properly word his next question. "But did they ever... get together?" "In that... 'I-love-you-You-love-me-Let's-live-happily-ever-after' crappy kind of way?" "... Something like that." "Not really." "Um, 'not really'? Can't you be a bit more specific than that?" "They were never officially...," Vegeta paused, trying to find the proper term. He knew that they were in a relationship, but he didn't know how to phrase it so that Goten would understand the context. "... Dating, I suppose is the right word." "But?" Goten encouraged him. He needed to know. It was part of Piccolo's past, and he needed to understand it. He may not -like- it, but he needed to know it just the same. "They clearly had affection for each other in that way." Goten sat back as he thought on this. A slow scowl began to form on his face at the possibilities that presented themselves to him. This Gohan was an unknown with very deep ties to Piccolo. Granted, Goten knew that Piccolo was completely loyal and trustworthy. But Gohan wasn't. Vegeta sensed Goten getting too deep into his own thoughts, so he continued, "Nothing ever came of it. Gohan married Videl. Piccolo has been alone ever since. Until you." "Okay. Thanks," Goten replied, still scowling, but willing to dismiss the conversation. Vegeta, on the other hand, wasn't going to let it drop just yet. Vegeta growled low in his throat. He didn't like the idea that he might have somehow managed to screw up a relationship for the other prince or for Piccolo, for that matter. He liked them. He liked them both as individuals and as a couple, which was interesting since he didn't often like anybody. However, this Goten was sensible, quick to learn, and quick-witted. He was very worthy of this royal status. In fact, he'd have almost been a worthy heir to the throne of Vegeta-sei, unlike his own son. And Piccolo had always been someone he respected. As such, Vegeta decided that he'd do something a bit foolish and try to -help- the younger prince with his concerns about the green fighter. "Listen to me. Piccolo has never been happy. Even back then when he might have had some secret thing with Gohan, he wasn't happy. He was anti-social. He was boring. He never went out in public. Getting him to be around people at all was like pulling teeth." The saiyajin stopped for a second, apparently pondering something. "Of course... the same could be said about me. Except that I was married. Sort of." "Does any of this have a point?" asked the demi-saiyajin flatly. "My point is he's happy. He has a regular job, a house, and wears human clothes, for fuck's sake!" Vegeta exclaimed. "He laughs! He smiles! He shows you affection -publicly-. No one could make that happen except you. -Now- do you understand what I've been tying to hammer through your thick skull?!" "Yeah." Goten gave a small but appreciative smile before he took a bite out of the sandwich in his hand. In all honesty, he was incredibly grateful that Vegeta was so observant and had been willing to share so much. No one had exactly been forthcoming with much information about Piccolo before Goten had met him. "He was anti-social? Really?" "Yes. He'd often grunt rather than speak." "... I can see that." "Good. Now. No more talking about this relationship crap," Vegeta ordered, digging back into his food. He couldn't believe he'd just spent the last several minutes boosting someone else's self-esteem and making them feel -better-. '_Next thing I know, I'll be turning into the woman. ... Oh, well. I can't cook too well either._' *** There were a few gauze-like clouds in the sky, only enough to pass between the sun and earth to provide minimal shade. In the Capsule Corp back yard, several figures took advantage of the warm day. Meat grilled over a sizzling grill. There was a table set up with various platters of different snacks and deserts and drinks. Other tables decorated the grounds around the pool, room for all the people at the gathering. There was a volleyball net set up, and teams of two dueling it out as if the game alone would determine the fate of the earth. "This is, like, the best picnic -ever-," Bulma gushed. "Why do you say that?" asked 18 in return, though not really interested in the answer. "Well, just look at everyone!" The sheer glee in the blue-haired woman's eyes could've lightened even the darkest mood. "First of all, everyone showed up with -no- arm-twisting. See? Over by the pool? Vegeta is actually being sociable! Well, even if it is with Piccolo and Goten, still. Sociable! Talking! Laughing! Not being a scowling spoil-sport." "Will wonders never cease," 18 commented dryly. The blonde android had seen the show before; whenever Piccolo was off-duty and Goten would come to the club, Vegeta would always willingly talk with them. And they would laugh, too. Or at least, snicker. 18 knew that if Bulma had ever bothered to come to the club, she'd have found all this out as well. Bulma frowned a little as her eyes fell on her son and his boyfriend stuffing their faces at the snack table. "And Trunks and Goten just have no manners!" "They're saiyajins. Isn't that how they all eat?" "Still, you'd think they'd learn something after all these years," Bulma snorted. "Little pigs." 18's eyes fell on her daughter across the yard playing volleyball with her father against Pan and Yamcha. Gohan sat nearby on the grass, giving Pan encouragement and little pointers about the game. "Marron's going to freckle like a red-headed stepchild. She needs sunscreen." Fishing around in a large tote bag behind her, Bulma produced a bottle of sunscreen. "Here," she said, handing the bottle to the other woman. "Why don't you take this to Marron? I'm going to see if my mom and Chichi need any help with the food. Though I doubt it with Mr. Popo being around, too." At a nearby table, Dende was shuffling cards. At the sound of the playing cards slapping together, both Goten and Trunks looked over at the small namek. He grinned at them both and indicated that he'd be willing to play them if they wanted. "Wanna play?" "Sure, but do you think we'd need a fourth player?" Trunks asked as he left his empty plate and wiped his hands. "Not really. Besides, do you see anyone who isn't busy?" Dende asked, grinning. "No," Chibi said, looking around. But then he saw a dark figure moving in between people, hustling with an empty platter towards the table. "Wait. What about Mr. Popo? He might want to play." "No. Not Mr. Popo. He cheats," Dende said, a slight scowl on his face. "Dende! I heard that," Mr. Popo exclaimed, surprising the young Kami, who hadn't seen him coming. "And I do not cheat!" "Do too!" Dende retorted. "I do not cheat, and you know it. I cannot help it if I know all your tell-tale signs of when you are bluffing," Mr. Popo said. "See. He can't play. I want a shot at winning for once," Dende admitted, shuffling the cards like a Las Vegas dealer. Trunks and Chibi exchanged a glance, wondering just what they had just gotten themselves into. Gohan noticed the blonde android heading towards the volleyball area, and he smiled at her in greeting. "Hey 18, what's up?" "Marron needs to put on some sunscreen," 18 stated as she moved to stand beside the still sitting demi-saiyajin. "Aw, mom," Marron groused. "After this game, okay? Me and Dad are winning!" Just then, the small, white ball flew right down in front of her as Yamcha spiked the ball over the net. Pan smirked at the elder female. "Not anymore. Tied game." "That totally almost hit my face. Do you know how -long- it took for me to get my makeup to look like this?" Marron squeaked as she backpedaled away from the dangerous sphere. Pan looked at the other girl blankly and stated, "You don't look like you're wearing any makeup." Marron rolled her eyes. She placed her hands on her hips and said huffily, "Duh! That's the whole point." Pan looked at Yamcha, who was trying to cover his mouth to stop from laughing out loud at her friend. She then turned to her father, who was lying back on the ground, laughing uproariously at both of them. That convinced her. "Makeup is stupid." "You're stupid," Marron growled, abandoning her earlier stance for one that was a bit more aggressive, even though they both knew it was in jest. "Marron..." Krillin admonished, pointing the way to his wife. "She insulted me first!" the blonde girl defended, even as she went to obey her father's demand. She accepted the sunscreen and began to apply it to her arms and legs. She looked over at Pan and noticed the dark-haired girl grinning at her, and she knew that the quarter-saiyajin was not done with teasing her yet. "And we're going to kick your butt at volleyball if you don't get back in the game," Pan added as the sunscreen container clicked closed. "Oh, you're so going down, pipsqueak," Marron retorted, her eyes narrowing dangerously. The two teams switched their positions on the field, and it was Yamcha's turn to serve, which Marron returned. Gohan laughed at the way the two girls played, mocking each other as they laughed. And Yamcha was even laughing, which was a good sign. After how the elder male broke down upon his return, the rest of them had wondered if he would actually recover. But it seemed that living with Vegeta was, in fact, doing him some good. Just thinking about the saiyajin prince had the demi-saiyajin looking over in that direction. The short male stood, glass in hand, laughing with Piccolo and Goten. The young hero sighed as his gaze locked onto Piccolo. The green male was smiling, his arm draped loosely around Goten's shoulders. He was wearing human clothes and looking drop dead sexy in them, too. He knew that Piccolo loved Goten. Knew it to be absolute, too. But that didn't stop him from loving the namek as well. He had been honest when he said that he wouldn't ever give up on loving Piccolo. Goten watched out of the corner of his eye as Gohan turned to regard him, and his two companions. His tail flickered out behind him before wrapping around Piccolo's thigh possessively. He smiled as Vegeta caught the action, smirking at them both before turning to glance at Yamcha again. Piccolo merely grinned, taking another sip from his drink. "So... Can someone please tell me -what- exactly Chiaotzu is?" Goten asked, an amused look gracing his features. "Not a clue," Vegeta smirked with a shake of his head. "I don't think anyone has that one quite figured out. Well, maybe Tien does, but no one wants to ask," Piccolo replied. "Yamcha seems to be having fun," Goten remarked to Vegeta, unable to stop the small smirk at how the elder male never seemed to take his eyes off of the human for more than a few seconds. "I guess he likes games." "Huh?" Vegeta asked, startled for a moment, wondering how much Goten guessed about his and Yamcha's relationship, or lack thereof. "Well, he -is- an athlete. It's what they do. He likes baseball, softball, volleyball. I think he even plays basketball." "Ah. I see," Goten smiled. He thought about making a rather rude comment, but knew the other male wouldn't appreciate it, so he kept it to himself. The elder prince returned to watching Yamcha's game. He tilted his head to the side, looking from Vegeta to Bulma as the blue-haired woman watched the picnic and talked with her mother and Chichi. "You know, I'm rather surprised that you came to this picnic, Vegeta. I mean, I know that you aren't overly fond of Bulma and all." "We... have an understanding," Vegeta replied. "Oh?" Piccolo asked, curious. "You might just say we're allies," the short male smirked, turning his gaze once again to look at Yamcha, watching the way the human moved as he played his game. Yamcha had taken his shirt off a while back, exposing the royal crest for the world to see. No one had commented on it, and Vegeta wasn't sure why. Though, he knew if anyone had, Yamcha would have probably have covered it up, which would have been disappointing. Very disappointing. He turned his head to look at Bulma for a moment. Their eyes met before they both looked at Yamcha again, distracted by Yamcha's laughter as Pan hit the sand in a dive that missed the ball. "We have a... mutual goal." "I see," Piccolo said, looking in the direction that Vegeta was. "So you came because he did." "Hn," Vegeta nodded, taking another sip from his drink. "Well, this is one way to make sure that you keep in touch with him. And I'm sure it beats him having to call you every two hours," Goten commented, watching the elder male over the rim of his glass as he took a sip of his drink. Vegeta's visage darkened for a moment. Ever since their shared kiss, those check-up calls had been promptly on-time and lasted all of two words. '_I'm alive,_' Vegeta mocked. That was what each phone call said. And if Vegeta ever tried to call him, he'd only get, '_Still alive._' It was enough to drive even the most tolerant of people insane. Vegeta freely admitted that he wasn't the most tolerant of people, yet he was still... trying. The saiyajin sighed, shaking his head. "It does indeed." "If you'll both excuse me," Goten said, bowing slightly as he unwound his tail. He turned his back on them as he moved towards the house. It wasn't difficult to guess where he was going. Piccolo watched him go for a moment but then turned back to talk with Vegeta. Before either of them could say anything, Bulma's voice rang out into the yard, "Dinner's done!" *** Upon exiting the half-bathroom in the kitchen, Goten nearly ran face-first into Yamcha, who had been coming down an adjacent hall. The human smiled at him. "Oh, so it was -you- who beat me to the nearest bathroom. Good thing this place has so many, huh?" "I suppose," Goten returned. He had to admit to himself that he was curious to know what had been going on with him and Vegeta in their shared household. Having been with Vegeta on a few occasions when the phone rang for one of Yamcha's check-ins, he knew the conversations were short. So short, in fact, that Vegeta never got a word in edgewise. "You're looking well. Healthier. Than a while back." "Thanks. It's been difficult, but... It's gonna be all right, I think." "And how are things going?" "Good," Yamcha grinned. "I love picnics. And it's a beautiful day out." "Actually," redirected the demi-saiyajin, "I meant with you and Vegeta." Yamcha paused for a moment. It was a difficult question for him to answer, and it gave him a weird sense of déjà vu, though he couldn't recall the previous instance. In all fairness, he was still dreadfully confused about the whole 'Vegeta Situation', as he dubbed it in his head. The news about the saiyajin having known every single thing that happened between Yamcha and Geta completely floored him. But it explained everything. What it didn't clarify, however, was why Vegeta was so affected by the dreams. What made Yamcha so different all of a sudden? He hadn't changed while in the other dimension. Of course, he realized, this Vegeta had. And what was he going to do? Continue to push him away, even when he really didn't want to? Keep on treating him like the asshole he was before, despite the fact that he had changed? No, no. It was too confusing to really tell anyone else about it. "Fine." "Really." Goten wasn't fooled. He could see the wheels turning behind Yamcha's eyes. There was no way they were 'fine'. Something else was going on. "Yeah," the human responded. "I'm still putting up with him, but otherwise, we're fine." "I see." The two began heading back towards the picnic area. "So... What have you been doing with your time? Keeping busy?" "Oh! Yeah. I'm actually working on this pretty big project I hope to start seeing go through in the fall," Yamcha grinned. "I'm really excited about it. Spend most of my days out working on it." "Oh? Not... sparring anymore?" "Not really. I mean, I'm exercising, but not in that fighting way," clarified the older male. "Interesting." As they stepped out into the bright sunlight, Goten was about to ask Yamcha about the project on which he was working, but instead, something else caught his eye. Both males pulled up short. For the most part, the table was very full. There was very little space. So little, that it wasn't really enough for two people. And it seemed that the only real vacancy was between Chibi and Vegeta. Piccolo sat across from the small saiyajin prince with Gohan right beside him. Goten narrowed his eyes. The most space was around Vegeta, but that wasn't where he was planning on sitting. He walked over to where Piccolo was, his tail snapping twice behind him to show his annoyance before it wrapped around his waist. He gave Gohan a look, and the older male obediently moved down a bit. Not much, but it was enough for the younger demi-saiyajin to squeeze in. Yamcha, for his part, sighed to himself. His growing tan darkened as he sat down, silently, next to Vegeta and across from Goten. He grabbed a plate and started filling it with food, hoping that no one else would notice how his hands were shaking, and if they did notice, then that they would pass it off from him playing volleyball. He felt incredibly warm, sitting next to Vegeta, and he wasn't sure if it was from Vegeta's body heat, or his own embarrassment, or the heat from the sun and exertion of earlier. Chibi sat next to Yamcha, watching as the human's hands trembled as he spooned food onto his plate before passing the bowl to Vegeta. He felt kind of sorry for Yamcha, as he knew he didn't want to sit next to Vegeta either. But they lived together! Surely they were used to living under close conditions. Chibi looked across the table at Gohan and how he tried to hide his own emotions at having been shoved down a bit away from Piccolo, which he could understand. Not long ago, Chibi had made a wish. A somewhat selfish wish, though Trunks had benefited from it, too. In essence, the youngest Son had learned what even his elder sibling didn't know, and that lesson would never leave him. He had wanted to learn what Goten experienced when he and Piccolo made love. What he had found out was that Piccolo's sacrificing and giving nature didn't end in the battlefield. Trunks had never made love to him like that before, and it was one of those things to which, once sampled, a person could easily if not instantly become addicted. That feeling of being cherished, of being adored. It was intoxicating to say the least. And Chibi knew that Trunks had been trying to duplicate that feeling for him ever since. And it made him love his lavender-haired lover all the more. But that didn't mean that Trunks ever succeeded. It just meant that he tried. Chibi knew that Gohan had no real clue about truly being with Piccolo, but that didn't stop the elder demi-saiyajin from simply wanting to be with Piccolo. And for that, he felt sorry for his brother. Turning his head then, Chibi regarded his alternative self. If his life had been lived in an eternal hell, he might have ended up like him. But he didn't want that. Granted, he might have gotten Piccolo himself, but Chibi didn't want Piccolo. He loved Trunks and was happy with his life. Nevertheless, he found a few admirable traits in the other demi-saiyajin that fortunately didn't have anything to do with sex. Just his simple mannerisms and things like that. He remembered the not-so-nice stuff Goten had said to him upon their first meeting. And after observing the other him for so many months, he saw what Goten had meant. They were just minor things, but Chibi knew he was starting to makes a few changes about himself. He sat up straighter, didn't slouch like he used to do. He always wore clean clothes. But he wasn't going to change who he was. He liked who he was. He didn't know if Goten could say the same, even though he had found -his- happiness with Piccolo. "Chibi?" Trunks whispered, making sure that it was barely audible. "You're thinking too hard." "Huh?" Chibi asked, turning to look at the lavender-haired male who sat next to him. "It's hurting -my- head," Trunks grinned. While gazing at his boyfriend, he noticed the smallest change in the slightly younger man's countenance. It had been slowly building over the past few months, but even Trunks could tell that there was something different about Chibi. Like, maybe... He was starting to grow up a little. The two of them had never really wanted to grow up, and no one ever tried to teach them otherwise. But for some reason, Chibi had started down that path, dragging Trunks with him even if just a little. He suspected the change had come due to Goten. Considering the regal demi-saiyajin, Trunks glanced over at him, seeing that he was immersed in conversation with Vegeta and Piccolo, though he did appear to be trying to include Yamcha in their conversation. A light frown creased Trunks' brow. Not pausing in attempting to quench his ravenous appetite, the lavender-haired youth's eyes flitted around the table, taking in who was sitting where and with whom they were conversing. He didn't actually count them all, but it seemed that, despite everyone being together at the same table, they were all sequestered into their own little cliques. Either by blood, personality, or no other choice, the entire gang had other people with whom to belong. And that was comforting. At least to Trunks. To know that everyone would always have someone else. And again, his blue eyes were drawn to the nearest end of the table. His father. And Yamcha. Actually pausing a moment in his constant eating, Trunks' brow knitted. They had something in common but couldn't seem to get past it. They were the two loneliest people in the world. *** The air conditioner was in full effect as the stars shone outside. Yamcha moved softly into the kitchen, wanting something to drink. He wore only his sleeping pants, as was his usual when it was night and he had no place to go. He tried to avoid looking at Vegeta, as the prince sat in the living room, even though he could feel the saiyajin watching him. Biting his lower lip a moment, he called out, "Would you like something?" "Oh, so now you're talking to me?" Vegeta asked from his chair in the living room. "Ugh. Forget it," Yamcha retorted, putting away the second glass he had already pulled out. He opened the refrigerator and grabbed the orange juice. Vegeta opened his mouth, at the brink of apologizing, but he held back. He still had his pride. If nothing else, he did have his pride. That didn't stop him from mentally kicking himself. He was getting short-tempered again. He didn't need that. He needed to have just a little more patience. '_Hn. What I need is to get him naked and under me._' Vegeta sighed as he pushed that thought away. He turned to look out the window to view the ebony and diamond sky. After a moment's hesitation, Yamcha went ahead and poured another glass of juice for Vegeta. He padded back into the living room, passing Vegeta's chair along the way. He offered the surprised prince the second glass before sitting on the sofa, tucking his legs under him and picking up his sporting magazine. "Thank you," Vegeta said, cautiously. Not for the first time, Vegeta recognized how out of his element he was. He knew that seduction was about strategy. The problem was, it wasn't military strategy. And martial strategy was about the only thing he really knew. He had never tried to actually court anyone. Bulma was the one who courted him, or rather, simply announced to him and a few others one day that they had a -relationship-. She was also the one who ended that relationship. He watched as Yamcha settled in to reading, and he wondered what he should do. Usually they would watch television until ten if it was a 'quiet night at home', and then go to their separate beds, wherever they happened to be. But it was already after eleven, and neither seemed to be willing to call it a night. "Do you think you're going to be sore tomorrow from your never ending volleyball games?" "Maybe. Probably. I dunno. Nothing I can do about it now, anyway," Yamcha responded, shrugging. He looked up from his magazine to see a moment of concern in Vegeta's eyes before the prince occupied himself with taking a sip of juice. That spark of concern reminded Yamcha of just how he'd gotten himself into this... situation. When he'd come back and found out why Geta hadn't made it through the mirror with them, the human had been devastated. He'd found something so wonderful that he'd never even imagined it couldn't be there. But then... it wasn't. And Yamcha had no idea what to do with himself afterwards. That's where Vegeta came in. With no real will of his own to go on, without really wanting to live anymore but not having the strength to end his life, Yamcha allowed Vegeta to dictate his life for him. Until he began to recover and decided to rejoin the living, that is. Only then, Vegeta was still in control. Partly, the scarred male didn't mind it so much; it was nice to have someone around, even if he was overbearing and overprotective. Of course, that was also before they'd kissed. Yamcha had tried to gain a little freedom by testing his boundaries with Vegeta that night, and much to his chagrin, he'd received far more than for which he'd bargained. The saiyajin had known everything that happened between Yamcha and Geta like he'd been there himself. To say that was a little disheartening would've been a bold-faced lie; it freaked out the human. Vegeta had tried to explain everything, though not to put himself in a better light but just to help Yamcha understand. And he did understand to some extent, but he'd walked out of Vegeta's room that night and had barely said more than a few words to him since. Unfortunately, old habits were hard to break. Yamcha still called Vegeta every two hours to let him know he was still alive, but he wouldn't say anything else, nor would he let Vegeta say anything. He'd tried, at first, to call him back, but the scarred male still wouldn't allow him to speak. Vegeta basically conceded to Yamcha's wishes. It was at that point that Yamcha realized why Vegeta was really doing all of this, all the watching, the protectiveness. The saiyajin honestly cared. '_But why? Why does he care? Just because of the dreams?_' That didn't make much sense. Thinking back along all of the many years he'd known Vegeta, a large portion of which he'd actually had a crush on the other man, he considered what he knew about the small saiyajin. Suddenly, a light went off in Yamcha's head. '_He's so possessive, so protective of what he deems as -his- because... he's never really, truly had anything of his own!_' Vegeta's planet and his people... They were all gone. Even under Frieza, his uniforms were given to him. The family he'd made with Bulma... Well, he had never seemed too partial to that arrangement. But now, Vegeta had his nightclub, and he had... Yamcha. And that made all the difference. Sighing, Yamcha began turning through the pages of his magazine again, not actually looking at the contents. '_This is so complicated,_' he thought to himself. On one hand, he was pretty content with having Vegeta around. But on the other hand, didn't that mean he was betraying Geta's memory? His jaw clenched tightly as he pretended to read the magazine. That had actually been the problem with which he'd been dealing the past several months. If Vegeta hadn't been so caring and so eager to take care of him, there would be no issue. But he did just the opposite, and that made things more difficult for Yamcha. He'd loved Geta so much for all the reasons that made him different from Vegeta. However, the saiyajin prince from the universe had gone and changed into someone... so much better than he used to be, and that scared Yamcha. Vegeta was just... different. Deep in his heart, the human knew he couldn't hang onto Geta forever. He'd always hold a special place in his heart, but he was gone. Part of Yamcha wondered if his thoughts were like a betrayal. He didn't want to do that, to tarnish his time with Geta nor his memories of him. Yet the worst part was that, lately, it started to occur to him that he'd been taking out all of his pain and unhappiness on Vegeta this whole time. And the saiyajin prince deserved better than that. Yamcha gazed at Vegeta, who seemed to be fascinated with the contents of his drinking glass. Closing his magazine with a soft flap, he set it back down on the coffee table. His glass was still pretty full, so he took a slow, lengthy drink from it, still thinking about the man across from him. Vegeta did sincerely care, and all in all, it wasn't that bad. If he were really being honest with himself, he enjoyed the attention most of the time, as uncomfortable as it could be at other times. Yet... there was that underlying attraction. Yamcha couldn't really help that because, for all intents and purposes, Vegeta was an attractive man, strong, intelligent, and respectable. Who wouldn't find him appealing? In all fairness, it really wasn't like Yamcha to be so resentful or to hold a grudge. Maybe things would loosen up a bit if he gave a little. But would he be prepared to face the consequences? '_Well, I'll never know if I don't give it a shot. It's worth giving it that much._' Yamcha laced his fingers together and reached forward, stretching out his shoulders. "You know, maybe a little... shoulder rub wouldn't be too bad of an idea." Vegeta frowned a little at the human's words. Was he teasing him again? Regardless, he didn't want to waste an opportunity in case Yamcha's potential offer was the real thing. Swallowing his pride and trepidations, Vegeta responded, "I could... do that." "That'd be nice," Yamcha replied, moving off the couch to sit on the floor in front of Vegeta's chair. Vegeta set his glass down carefully on the stand next to his chair. Yamcha was shirtless, and the royal crest was blatantly exposed. Taking a deep breath, Vegeta set his hands lightly on Yamcha's shoulders. He grinned when he realized that Yamcha was truly serious, and then set about his task. He massaged Yamcha's neck and shoulders, using his chi to warm his hands further. He pushed the other male forward a bit, so that he could rub at his back, letting the scarred skin slide under his palms. Yamcha's eyes fell half shut as he began to relax under Vegeta's ministrations. It was nice. No, it was more than nice. His head fell forward as Vegeta continued to touch him with those magical, warm hands. "You're good at this." "Hn," Vegeta sounded, listening more to the soft undercurrent of sound Yamcha was making. It almost sounded like a purr. There was a strange prickling sensation that tickled the prince's skin, but it wasn't due to any kind of drop in temperature. "It would be better with oils, but chi works well in a pinch to loosen the muscles." "Hmmm. Oils do help, if you use the right ones," Yamcha agreed. He was getting sleepy, sitting there, soaking in the attention from the prince. "Which ones do you like?" Vegeta chuckled, dark and deep. He was enjoying himself and knew that it was going to be ending soon. But he was going to enjoy how pliant Yamcha seemed to be for as long as he could. He continued to run his hands over scarred flesh as he replied softly, "Don't ask me that." "Hmmm?" Yamcha asked, his eyes fully closed and more content than he could ever remember being. "Why not?" "Because that would lead to a conversation about something I think you'd rather not converse." Vegeta said, pulling Yamcha back and beginning to massage his temples. Yamcha was too relaxed to tense, but he did wake up at that. He discovered how tired he was, though, when his eyes started to droop closed again. He decided to push forward with the conversation, loathing putting an end to Vegeta's massage. "You seem like a nutmeg kind of guy to me." "Huh?" Vegeta asked, his already tan skin darkening slightly at the less than superb question. He was getting lost in the moment, lost in the simple act of touching the other male. "Scents. You seem like you might like nutmeg," Yamcha replied. "Oh," Vegeta said, finishing his massage. He rested his hands on Yamcha's shoulders, rubbing his thumb against the other male's flesh still. He gave a small smile as Yamcha turned and leaned back, resting his head on the prince's inner thigh. He wanted to lean down and touch more of the human but held back. "Um, why nutmeg?" Yamcha yawned first, before replying softly, "It's just the smell that I think fits you. When ever I smell nutmeg, I think of you." Vegeta eyes widened at that confession. He hadn't really thought that Yamcha thought about him, except to call or when others mentioned him. It was surprising that the human actually associated him with a scent, too, other than his own. From the shock came a warm kind of pleasure that seeped through the prince's blood. He leaned forward to run his a hand through Yamcha's hair. "Nutmeg, huh? It's a good flavor for food." Yamcha straightened as he yawned deeply. When he was finished, he stood up, stretching luxuriously. He grinned as he turned around, smiling down at the still sitting prince. He leaned down, placing both hands on the arms of the chair and brushed his lips gently, ever so gently, across Vegeta's. He pulled back to see the saiyajin's startled expression, and he couldn't stop the small little smirk it caused him. In a sense, Vegeta was similar to Geta. They had both been starving for affection. To Yamcha, it was rather sad that someone like Vegeta was so shocked by a simple kiss. Yet, the surprise was evident on the prince's face. The two were similar, yet so very dissimilar at the same time. It just went to complicate matters more. But Geta wasn't here, and never would be here, and Yamcha didn't want to be alone forever. He was just so confused. With that thought in mind, the human leaned forward again and was surprised when he was met half way. He closed his eyes as he tilted his head to the side, his hands still resting on the arms of the chair. Vegeta hadn't expected the first whisper of a kiss. But he knew it wasn't going to be enough. He leaned forward just as Yamcha had and met the human's soft lips with his own. His own dark eyes closed at the shiver of pleasure that slipped down his spine. Neither one deepened it much, but neither was in a rush to break the contact, either. Their eyes slid open only as Yamcha pulled away. He flushed darkly as he stood up, embarrassed, and slightly aroused. "Um... Thank you for the massage, Vegeta." "You're welcome," the prince said thickly. "Any time." "Um. Yeah. Uh," Yamcha stammered. "It's late. Maybe... I think I should be going to bed." "Maybe you should," Vegeta agreed, still sitting in his chair, watching the human as he made his retreat. His body was thrumming slightly from the kiss, aroused more than just slightly. He wanted Yamcha. He wanted him now. But he could wait. He might not be able to wait forever. But he could wait for now. "Right," Yamcha said, turning just at his bedroom door. "I'll see you tomorrow." As the door to Yamcha's room clicked shut, a small smile spread across the short saiyajin's features. It was one of the first times Yamcha actually acknowledged that there was going to -be- a tomorrow. Vegeta stood up, almost ready to laugh. He still had hope. Tomorrow, after all, was another day.   



	31. Reprise

_Disclaimer- We, being the parties of Summer Starr and Deani Bean, do hereby state that Dragonball Z and all of its subsequent characters do belong to someone else, and were created by Mr. Toriyama-sama in his talented wisdom. We, being said parties, just thought to borrow them to use for our own misguided and perverse joy._

_Warnings- *much evil laughter*_ **Kingdom Come**  
~ Chapter 31 Vegeta waited in the dark. He was sitting in a kitchen chair, staring at the front door. He was still dressed in his black business suit, not seeing a need to change clothes. These were just as easy to fight in. He was angry enough for it. He had thought that he and Yamcha were getting somewhere. Granted, there was still a lot of away time between them, with Yamcha gone during the day and himself gone for the nights at his club. When they did see each other, though, there was none of the strained silence of before. It was usually very comfortable between them, though it could be a little tense at times. But that didn't matter. What mattered to Vegeta at that particular moment was that he had seen Yamcha outside of his club with someone draped on his arm. Some young, brunette, tanned, smiling female whom he didn't know and didn't like. She was hanging all over Yamcha, and the human simply smiled at her, leading her away. And as fast as Vegeta was, by the time he reacted and managed to get outside the club, Yamcha was gone, taking his... whore with him. It was enough to make Vegeta want to destroy the entire mudball planet. He growled as he continued his vigil. He wasn't angry. He was enraged. Yamcha was his. And it was time the human learned that. Vegeta was tired of being patient. He wanted Yamcha, and he wanted him NOW. Wanted to taste the scarred male's flesh and sweat on his tongue. Wanted to hear Yamcha begging, screaming for more. Wanted to press into the warmth of Yamcha's body as the human lay under him, his weaker muscles straining and his cries shattering the stillness of the condo that was presently suffocating. Wanted to feel Yamcha trembling, on the brink of an orgasm, able to deny or grant that climax. Wanted to be inside the human, be there as that sweet release crashed into him. And tonight was the night that he was going to get what he wanted, screw the consequences. He was entitled to his rights, dammit. Yamcha was HIS. Vegeta's eyes fixated on the door as he heard the key slide into the lock. His quick grin was at once feral and joyous before it flitted away like time. The door slid open easily, and golden light from the hallway spilt into the darkness for only an instant as Yamcha slipped inside. Vegeta heard the soft click of the door shut and the lock sliding back into place. Even as Yamcha was slipping out of his shoes, tossing his keys and wallet to the table beside the door, Vegeta was standing. Without turning on any of the lights, as he knew where everything was, he thought, Yamcha walked into the living room, by passing the kitchen. "So, I see that you're ready for new relationships. Or was that woman you were with just some whore?" Vegeta growled as he moved up behind the taller male. With a startled yelp, Yamcha spun around. And quickly found a new reason to cry out in pain and shock as Vegeta grabbed him between the legs. Gasping, holding onto Vegeta's hand as he bent over in pain, Yamcha rasped, "Vegeta..." "What I think YOU fail to see is that YOU are MINE. And that means that no one, other than me, is allowed to have you. The only time you're allowed to sleep with anyone other than me is when I say so, and trust me when I say that that is not a day that is in the near future," Vegeta growled low and guttural so that his words barely made any sense. His hold on Yamcha relaxed a bit before tightening again. He held it in a pulsing rhythm, knowing that he'd have to ease up a bit if he wanted Yamcha to respond in any form or fashion. "Vegeta..." Yamcha gasped again, slowly getting over his shock and trying to collect his thoughts. Taking deep breaths to fight back the nausea from his fear, he asked, "What are you talking about?" "I'm talking about this," Vegeta answered, as he pulled Yamcha's head back with his free hand and slanted his mouth over the human's parted lips. He plundered the heated treasure that he had only been able to taste once before. He hungered for it, and he wasn't about to let Yamcha get away, even though he did loosen his angry clasp. He ravished the taller male with nothing more than his kiss, promising things both carnal and primal. He pulled back, panting, only to be blind-sided with a chi-enhanced right hook. Yamcha couldn't get out of the prince's reach, even if he flew out the window, so instead he held his ground, which was a mere few feet away and on the other side of the sofa. He stood panting, hurt and confused and in slight shock. Even though it was late October, and slightly cool inside his home, he felt as if it was midday July where he was standing, he was so warm. And if any of the inside lights had been turned on, he was sure that Vegeta would be able to see how panicked he was, able to see how wide his eyes were. "What the FUCK do you think you're doing!?" "I'm claiming what is rightfully mine," Vegeta said, falling into his most familiar fighting stance. "What you dare to give to others." "Are you -insane-?!" Yamcha cried out, falling into a defensive stance he knew wouldn't protect him, but it was his best option. "Probably," Vegeta rasped. "I mean, I've waited patiently for you to come to me, and what do you do? You betray me! You've played me for a fool, and I -let- you, too caught up in wanting you to even notice what you were doing. I have to be insane, don't I, or maybe just an idiot?" "Vegeta..." Yamcha whispered, shaking his head, trying to get Vegeta to understand. The anger within himself subsided quickly and gave way to understanding. '_Vegeta was clearly just mistaken and wouldn't be acting like this if he'd known. I have to explain._' He wanted to sooth the prince's jealousy, especially seeing as how it was completely unfounded, but he wasn't sure he was going to be able to. "I never did anything to betray you. There's no reason to get so angry." "Fuck that! No reason?!" Vegeta cried out, tears pricking at the edge of his eyes. He was so angry he was ready to cry. He didn't want to lose face like that, but it was either cry with anger and frustration, or reach over and -kill- the human. "No reason? You reek of her and alcohol!" Yamcha flushed as he shifted in a hasty retreat a few steps back. "Okay, so it might seem--" "Don't give me that shit!" Vegeta said, glaring at the other, daring him to respond. Yamcha was silent, shifting so that he was still out of Vegeta's grasp. He knew that if the prince wanted to press the issue, he wouldn't stand a chance. '_He's holding back. He's holding back. He's got to be holding back. Damn, what am I supposed to do?_' "Vegeta... I know that you're pissed off. But you don't have any reason to be jealous." "Oh? Give me one good reason, dammit," Vegeta snarled, closing in. "Because I'm recruiting her to be my star pitcher?" Yamcha replied, wondering if that was a good enough reason, because in all honesty, that was the reason. "I was helping her move into her new apartment all day, because I'm the only person she knows here, and she hasn't met the rest of the team yet. So, since this is the first time she's out on her own, I thought I'd lend a hand. Afterwards, we decided to go get something to eat and share a few drinks, as a sort of informal celebration of her signing with my new team as well as her moving away from home." Vegeta frowned, confusion marring his brow. "Pitcher?" "Yeah. Pitcher. Remember my girls' softball team?" Yamcha further elaborated. "Don't you remember? I bought a baseball team -and- a softball team. The girl you saw me with tonight has the best fast pitch in the world. She's going to be my number one pitcher." Vegeta opened his mouth, but his words died in his throat. He remembered. He hadn't forgotten; he just didn't think about it. He continued to glare at Yamcha, but he fell out of his aggressive stance. Yamcha breathed an exasperated sigh. "Man. I finally start getting my life together, and -this- happens. You know, all I wanted was to rebuild something for me to invest my time and money in. I thought... if I got that straightened out, then the rest of my life would just fall into place. But this... This is crazy, Vegeta." "Softball," Vegeta mumbled. His focus fell to the floor. His anger drained away leaving him feeling very foolish, and very embarrassed. He knew every word Yamcha said was true. This -was- crazy. -He- was crazy. "I forgot." Yamcha sighed, breathing easier now that Vegeta wasn't trying to kill him. He gave a small smile as he looked over at the still flushed prince. Yamcha knew that he hadn't always been loyal to Bulma, but then, she hadn't exactly been loyal to him. Nor had she always been there for him when he needed her to be. For her, work and adventure came first. Oh, and Goku. "You're still mine, though," Vegeta said, crossing his arms over his chest. Even though he felt like an ass for his outburst, he wasn't about to let Yamcha think otherwise. He slid a look at the human as he heard soft chuckling. "What?" "You!" Yamcha returned. He smiled, relief flooding his system and making him giddy. He watched as Vegeta's eyes narrowed, knowing full well that the prince didn't like to be laughed at. But it was hard to resist when the shorter male looked so cute, flushed with embarrassment and trying to look tough! His merriment subsided after an all too brief amount of time, though he remained smiling. "I never knew how jealous you could get." "Well, now you do," Vegeta replied softly. He scowled at the ground again, not enjoying the situation. "Vegeta--" "And what do you expect, anyway?" Vegeta interrupted rounding on the other male, already out of sorts, but not caring. He didn't want to make another fool of himself, so he had to find out where they stood with each other. He was tired of guessing, because it seemed he had been guessing wrong. "You're giving off all kinds of signals, the overt touching, the times I catch you staring at me. The kisses. I've held back this long, waiting for you to acknowledge that you want me, when all I've wanted to do was to grab you and throw you onto the floor, or even better, throw you onto the bed." "Prince..."Yamcha was stunned, not expecting that bit of information. Vegeta was looking at him, tense, expecting an answer, though, so he knew he'd have to give him one. He just didn't know what kind of answer to give. He had actually put a lot of thought into the situation and knew that he was going to give this, whatever -this- happened to be, a shot. But, he didn't want to lose his autonomy. He wanted to be his own person, not someone's slave. He was Yamcha, not some pet or possession. He just had to make sure Vegeta understood this. Because there was no mistaking it. He wanted Vegeta. There was no doubt in his mind on that topic. Who wouldn't want him? But it was Vegeta. He had no idea on how to approach him, even though they lived in the same home, and though they had been getting closer, it was still Vegeta. In all honesty, Vegeta intimidated him. With good reason, too. The prince was one of the most powerful men on the planet. And he was handsome, a fact that never left Yamcha's awareness. Taking a deep breath, Yamcha squared his shoulders. He took the first step forward, and the rest simply followed. "Listen, Prince Vegeta. It may seem like I've been taking advantage of you, but everything I've done, -you- started." Wide eyes watched as Yamcha came towards him, unnerving the shorter male with his confidence. Vegeta was already unsure and off balance, and found himself retreating from Yamcha's forward progression. His arms fell to his side as he fell back, away from the advancing human. "You were the first one to touch me. You were the first one to kiss me," Yamcha said, perversely joyous as Vegeta backpedaled... right into the wall that separated his master bedroom from the living room. He continued on, even though the prince was stationary. He walked up until their bodies were almost touching. Partially balanced by one hand on the wall beside Vegeta's head, he leaned down slightly. "And you were the first one to do this, too." Vegeta gasped loudly as he felt Yamcha's free hand grab him between the legs. Where his own grip had been harsh and cruel, Yamcha's... was not. The prince grabbed at the human's shoulder and waist, growing hard and weak at the same time. And even though Yamcha's grip wasn't as aggressive, it was assertive, firm and demanding. The ex-bandit loosened his hold only to reaffirm it, beginning to stroke the prince through the dark cloth of his dress slacks. Vegeta moaned, letting his head fall forwards to see for himself that he wasn't as insane as he thought he was, and then fell back as Yamcha continued to rub him through his pants. He wanted this. He needed it. The shorter male closed his eyes in ecstasy, biting his lower lip. He couldn't help rotating his hips, hissing in pleasure at the pressure from the scarred warrior's palm. "If you want this, if you want me, I will not be your slave under any circumstances, got that?" Yamcha stated softly, amazed at how hard Vegeta was under his hand and how very responsive. "Yamcha...," Vegeta rasped. He nodded his head, ready to agree to anything at that moment. He had been chaste for so long. In truth, he had been without sex for far longer than anyone had any right to know about. He hadn't shared the woman's bed since they had both decided it wasn't worth the effort, yet he hadn't taken up with anyone in order to keep up the pretenses of being with her. It had been a long, long time since he had had anyone give him pleasure, even longer since he had wanted someone to do so. And it was showing. He had no endurance, nor restraint. At the same time, he was still a warrior. He was still a prince. But what Yamcha was demanding wasn't anything he wasn't willing to grant. He opened his eyes to lock his gaze with the taller human's. "Not my slave. Never." "Promise?" Yamcha asked, his hot breath a mere breeze over Vegeta's parted lips. "I swear, I swear on my family's honor, and by my family crest. You will never be my slave." He couldn't help how breathless he sounded or that he was shivering. It was all Yamcha's fault, after all. Vegeta moaned as Yamcha's hand left him, only to undo his belt and slide -into- his pants. The feel of Yamcha's calloused hand on his aching sex was delicious. "A simple 'I promise' would have worked," Yamcha whispered, just before he leaned down. Dark eyes fluttered closed as Yamcha took full advantage of his position. His kiss was the complete opposite of Vegeta's earlier one. He nipped and tugged at the prince's lower lip before settling his lips across saiyajin's. The hand on his shoulder moved to tangle in his dark hair, pulling him close. But while Vegeta seemed to want as harsh a kiss as he gave earlier, Yamcha was more inclined to be thorough. The kiss was Vegeta's undoing. He moaned low as his seed spilt out, dampening his pants and Yamcha's palm inside them. He had to break the kiss, too little oxygen and too much pleasure making him dizzy. "Shit." Yamcha grinned as he leaned down further to nip at Vegeta's neck and earlobe. He wanted Vegeta, and it wasn't just for the sex. If Vegeta thought otherwise... "I hope you realize... we're not done yet." "Hn. Not by far." Vegeta agreed, closing his eyes at the feel of Yamcha's hot tongue sliding over the skin on his neck. "But that took the edge off." The prince caught Yamcha's mouth, his hunger eased but not quenched. He tugged the other male's head forward, sealing their lips together. With his other hand, he pulled Yamcha's shirt free, allowing his calloused hands to play over firm muscles covered by scarred skin. At least in that, they were both even. Yamcha groaned into the kiss, tasting Vegeta's aggression and wildness. His groan ended with a startled gasp, muffled by the kiss, as the prince found one of his taut nipples. The world swam around him for a moment as Vegeta played with the small nub, before he felt the wall to -his- back and the short saiyajin pressed between his legs. The prince voiced his own pleasure as he felt Yamcha widen his stance and grab his hips to pull him closer. But as enticing as it was to think about taking the human up against a wall, Vegeta knew he wanted the bed under both of them. As if simply thinking it caused it to happen, Vegeta quickly discovered that he was laying Yamcha down on the ex-thief's bed. He broke the kiss, his breathing harsh, to lean up over the taller male. There were no lights on, but the natural star light from outside spilt into the room from one of the windows that remained unblocked. Using the silvery blue illumination, the two stripped out of their clothes, pausing to kiss and taste the other. When they were completely free from their confining clothing, Vegeta positioned himself between Yamcha's legs. The human, denied the opportunity to kiss the royal again, pacified himself by playing with the saiyajin's fingers, taking them into his mouth and mimicking things that Vegeta had only been able to dream about. Yamcha was pushed back onto the bed, one hand placed firmly over his sternum while saliva-slicked fingers slowly penetrated him, teasing him while testing and stretching him at the same time. Vegeta's grin was feral as he stared down with glittering eyes at how Yamcha was writhing under him. Curiously, he found that he was already moving in time with Yamcha's frantic thrusts, his arousal more than ready to be embedded inside of the taller male. When he couldn't tolerate the other man's sounds of pleasure any more, he removed his fingers. As he positioned himself, Yamcha's legs raised up, Vegeta managed to rasp out, "You have no idea how much I've wanted you, like this: under me, wanting me, begging me." "Vegeta--," Yamcha whimpered. He let his head fall back as the prince entered him slowly. It had been a while since he had had a lover, and his body was letting him know it. But even though there was some discomfort, there was also the knowledge that it would pass. He forced his body to relax, and when Vegeta was in as deep as he could move, Yamcha found that the dull sting of before was gone, replaced by a very sharp need. He tried to buck, trying to assuage that desperation. But the prince was firm in where he was, not willing to move so soon. When Yamcha found his voice, he also found that it was very easy to give into Vegeta's request, "Vegeta, please. -Please-." Vegeta retreated slowly, savoring the heat that surrounded him, before thrusting forward again. He had dreamed of this, but reality was far better. In his dreams, there was sex, but there was also the turbulent emotions that had assaulted him night after night. He could have lived with the dreams if they were just about the physical. But that wasn't important now. What was important was that, despite everything, and though he'd be damned a thousand times before ever admitting it to anyone, he loved Yamcha. Granted, it was the dreams that brought them together, but those dreams had stopped almost a year ago. He was in control of his life, and it was his decision to chase the scarred human. He bared his teeth as he buried his aching arousal to the hilt. He thought to set a steady, moderate tempo, but he quickly found that he couldn't keep it. Not with how vocal Yamcha was expressing his pleasure. Yamcha moaned as the prince's hard body rocked against him, into him, hitting that pleasure spot with each stroke. He placed his hands on Vegeta's shoulders, kneading them, as he threw his head back in rapture. There was no thought. There wasn't any ability to think. There was only Vegeta and his need for the saiyajin. He began to tell Vegeta that, too, but he wasn't sure if his words came out all that coherent. The prince increased his speed, but kept his power in check, but only barely. It was tempting to go wild, to simply release all of his restraints. He growled in pleasure at his lover's reaction. Yamcha's words degenerated into soft, one syllable vowel sounds under him with each thrust forward. The gentle touching of before had become a fierce clawing at his back and shoulders. But for each movement the prince made, Yamcha was there to meet it. With a pleased grin, the shorter male reached down between their bodies, grabbing Yamcha's erection in a stroke that left the human swearing with an unexpected climax. Vegeta cried out as his control snapped, liquid pleasure washing from him and into Yamcha, stealing all of his valued power. Using the last bit of strength he had, Vegeta leaned over the edge of the bed and grabbed at something to clean them both off with. It was his dress shirt. He didn't even bother worrying about it, wiping Yamcha off first, and then himself, before somehow managing to climb under the covers. The royal saiyajin felt his lover pull him close; comforting arms wrapped around him, and the prince couldn't help but melt into the embrace. He looked up, seeing Yamcha's half-lidded eyes and swollen, parted lips. He sighed as he rested his head back down, trying to get his breathing to return to normal. When he knew that he would be able to form words that made sense, Vegeta raised his head again to try and thank Yamcha for... everything. But Yamcha was already asleep. Vegeta smirked, leaning down to place a light kiss over one of many scars. He briefly tightened his arms around his lover, whispering softly, "Mine." But then he, too, fell into unconsciousness. *** The night air was crisp and cool, somehow making the stars shining above seem all the more surreal and concrete at the same time. But that was only if you were far enough above the lights to be able to actually -see- the stars, because at ground level, the streetlights stole their beauty and created an illusion that the sky above the lights held nothing but a gloomy darkness. Flying through the air, a young demi-saiyajin raced almost unnoticed by the population of people under him. There was a single person who took notice of his passage though. Gohan had been flying a patrol through a rough neighborhood, trying to find something to do to keep his mind and body occupied. He was in the middle of debating what to do with the next few years of his life, and he wanted to be distracted if only for a little while. He had thought that the spike of chi racing in his general direction would pass him by, but instead the person came closer. Since Gohan was merely floating rather than flying, his own powers were muffled, and it wasn't until the royal hybrid was close to him that he realized who he was raising to greet. "Hello, Goten." "Gohan," the dark-haired prince replied evenly, if a bit warily. He stopped his mad dash, wondering briefly what he should do. Piccolo was expecting him soon. They had decided to work the same 'shift' at their respected jobs and then meet up afterwards to go home together. It wasn't a necessary thing, but they enjoyed the activity. He didn't want to talk with Gohan, but at the same time he knew that he needed to keep an eye on him and make sure that the elder demi-saiyajin knew that Piccolo was his. Only, he wasn't too sure of Gohan's ability to catch any subtle threats, and he also knew from talking with others that Gohan was powerfully strong. As in, monstrously, powerfully strong. Gohan shifted uncomfortably across from the younger male. Whereas silence could usually be acceptable, it was a void of unease between the two demi-saiyajins. Struggling to find anything to talk about, the costumed warrior latched onto the first thing that came to mind. "That's a nice... I like your jacket." "Really," sounded Goten, his eyes never wavering in their observant stare. Wondering if he should test the temper, if even just a little, he noted. "Piccolo picked it out for me." "Oh. He... has very good taste." The elder male clenched his jaw as looked over the other. He had to admit that Goten -was- very well dressed. '_And Piccolo helps? I never even knew he could like clothes other than his standard outfit. Although... He does look really sexy in regular clothes..._' "Yes, he does, doesn't he..." Goten eyed the garish outfit Gohan was wearing. What was it that Vegeta said? Saiyaman or some such nonsense? '_Saving the world day by day... I guess he has nothing better to do._' Smirking, he nodded towards Gohan and commented, "And I suppose that's your... hero costume." Flushed with slight embarrassment, Gohan stammered, "Uh, y-yeah." "It looks ridiculous." "That's kinda what Piccolo said when I first started wearing it." Goten's smirk increased, his eyes gleaming a bit wickedly. "Well, like you said. He has very good taste." "Yeah, I guess so," responded the larger demi-saiyajin. Gohan directed his eyes down towards the city, unable to hide his steady discomfiture with the youth's rather acerbic comments. He knew Goten was being honest, but he didn't want the other to make him feel any more inferior than he already did, especially since Goten had the one thing Gohan had wanted. Goten watched as Gohan seemed to shift his attention back to the ground far below and thought that perhaps the older male was trying to return to guarding the city. He knew he was being malicious and knew that it was upsetting the other male, but there was a reason for it. Goten could tell that the elder demi-saiyajin still wasn't letting go, even after all this time. But Piccolo was his, and he wanted Gohan to understand that. "You've been wise, you know. Staying away from him." Gohan didn't even have to ask who Goten was talking about. He looked up from the luminous metropolis below to Goten's glittering eyes. "I haven't been staying away from him. I've been busy. He's still my friend." Goten snorted, his tail coming unwound from around his waist to snap through the air. The prince folded his arms over his chest. His expression was one of utmost disdain, as he replied with contempt, "Friend? Is that what you people here call the person you want to fuck you senseless?" "No," Gohan replied, the pitch of his voice raising slightly. Goten nodded his head, as if to affirm that he hadn't known, or rather, to acknowledge the correct answer. He curled his tail behind him. The young demi-saiyajin didn't think he would have another opportunity as clean as this one or as soon. He had broached this topic, and he was going to see it through. "Don't think I don't know." "What do you mean?" Gohan asked cautiously. He had no idea what Goten was going to try and do or say, but he knew that he hadn't done anything wrong. At least, he hadn't done anything wrong by the tailed prince across from him. "You still want him," Goten answered quietly. He floated in the air with Gohan only a few feet from him when he added dangerously soft, "You're the enemy." "I'm not the enemy. Piccolo and I are just friends, and if you have that little faith in your relationship--" "Oh, don't mistake me. I have no doubts or worries about my relationship with Piccolo. But you can't be trusted. I know you can't." "And just what gives you that idea?" Gohan replied loudly, raising his hands into the air in mock surrender. His earlier dislike of the other male was fueling his anger and disgust at the discussion, and he was quickly becoming annoyed with the prince. Though, it was rather flattering to think that Goten thought he had a chance at stealing Piccolo back. Goten floated closer to Gohan and a little higher so that the other male had to look up to him. His voice was low and threatening as he detailed, "Every time you look at him and think about how much you love him. Every time you think about him and realize again and again how much you messed it all up. Every time you see him with me and wonder why you're not me. Every time you see me and wish you could get rid of me so you could have him all to yourself again." "Fuck you," growled the elder demi-saiyajin, baring his teeth as he glared at Goten. '_How -dare- that little brat say that about me!_' Yet, deep down, Gohan knew that there was some truth to what he'd said. And that was just as bad if not worse. He didn't want to think like that. "Don't worry. He will be," the royal smirked. Gohan fought to keep his fury in check, to keep from lashing out at Goten with his fists. "I do -not- think like that." Seeing that the other half-breed was struggling to avoid violence, the younger male floated back just enough to be out of arm's reach. Goten knew Gohan could kill him probably without even thinking about it, and he certainly didn't want to further rouse his ire. Returning his voice to a more conciliatory tone, he said, "Yes, you do. And I understand why. I'd feel exactly the same way if I were you." "Because it's Piccolo," sighed Gohan. Piccolo was always to what everything came down in the end. Against all odds and even in death, Piccolo had always mattered the most. Nothing or no one came even close. Not on Earth. Not on Namek. Not in this life or the afterlife. That fact hadn't altered despite the changes through which they'd gone themselves. "You know, I used to envy you," Goten mused aloud, keeping his voice calm and level. To show his further commitment to backing down, he allowed his tail to re-wrap itself around his waist. His original jealousy managed to seep into him somewhat as he recalled just -why- he'd envied Gohan. He'd been able to get Bulma to talk some about Piccolo and Gohan's original relationship, as it turned out she had known Piccolo and Gohan far longer than even Vegeta. The human female had even gone so far as to show Goten some old photos of the two from when Gohan was a child. The other demi-saiyajin had been so happy and apparently had the namek wrapped around his little finger; no matter where Gohan was, Piccolo was typically nearby if not right next to him. Truthfully, he still envied Gohan a little. "Once I'd figured out it was you for whom Piccolo cared so much when I first met him. Because you'd known him for so long. Because you had his attention without even trying. But then I pitied you. Because here you are, still pining away. Because he's mine." "He was mine, first." "But he's mine, now." "I won't lie to you. I won't sit here and deny everything you've said. It's true. I love Piccolo," Gohan admitted. Before Goten could respond to that admission, though, he added, "But I know he doesn't love me. Not like that. Not anymore." "It's good that you know that," Goten said carefully. He was surprised Gohan actually admitted his continued feelings for Piccolo, more so that Gohan knew that they weren't reciprocated. He began to relax, knowing that Gohan knew the situation and was accepting it, but then Gohan surprised him further by looking up into his eyes. There was a dangerous glint in the elder demi-saiyajin's eyes, one that sent chills of alarm up Goten's spine. "But you should know this, too: if you ever, -ever- hurt him... if you ever manage fuck up this relationship... I'll be there," Gohan warned. He was torn between wanting Goten to fail at this relationship and wanting it to succeed for Piccolo's sake. He wanted Piccolo to be happy, especially after all he'd done to the tall male. Gohan continued on, not stopping to think about the consequences of his words, knowing that they didn't matter as much as Goten understanding his position. "I'll be right -there-. And he'll be mine all over again." "Don't count on it. I would sooner die than hurt him or destroy what we have," Goten responded, and the sincerity and vehemence in his words pacified Gohan, if only a little. "I hope you mean that." "I do." "Good," Gohan nodded, and then took a deep, cleansing breath as he tried to rid the tension from the exchange. "Well. I should... get back to watching over the city." "Yeah. Go be a hero," Goten quipped, smirking. "Don't forget what I said." The danger was still there in Gohan's voice, but he was already looking down at the city, watching and waiting. "And don't forget what -I- said," Goten replied. He knew from simply being around the elder demi-saiyajin, and listening to what other people said, Gohan was normally a very cheerful person, one that preferred to study rather than to fight. But he also knew that Piccolo was one reason -- and he suspected that Piccolo was probably the only reason -- for which Gohan would kill. He watched as something caught Gohan's attention, and the garishly clad warrior almost fell to the earth, rocketing down to the streets below. Though no one could hear it but himself, Goten reaffirmed aloud, "He's mine, now." *** The morning light spilt into the room with vulgar cheerfulness. Vegeta didn't open his eyes, trying to fight back the hands of time by simply not acknowledging that it was time to get up. He didn't want to, though. He was warm from the piles of covers, but mostly it was from Yamcha's body pressed against him. The prince was lying draped over his lover, his head resting on the scarred flesh of his lover's chest. He had his arms tucked against Yamcha's ribs, and his hands pinned between the firm mattress and the human's heated body. The shorter male could feel his own partial arousal rubbing with Yamcha's, slowly becoming hard. The prince sighed as he felt Yamcha's hand following the curve of his spine from the nape of his neck to the dip at the small of his back before it retreated along the same line. Vegeta knew that he was purring, basking in the attention, even though it was a rather sloppy caress. Still, it was a caress. He wondered what Yamcha was thinking about to have him so distracted. The prince rather hoped that the taller fighter wasn't already regretting last night. It was a concern, though, and one that Vegeta did not take lightly. The small male's smile twisted as his customary scowl set in place. _'Hn. He'd better NOT regret it, dammit._' It seemed that with the morning light, Vegeta's uncertainty came forward again. But then, if Yamcha was regretting things, why was he being affectionate? The prince's scowl melted away with the continuous stroking at his back. '_Maybe he doesn't. Maybe... It'd be too much to ask that he love me, so I'm not going to bother. But it would be nice if he did._' He opened his eyes and raised his head, acknowledging that if he was going to start the day, then perhaps he'd be able to start it off in the best way possible. And since it seemed that Yamcha was inviting him to more love play, it would only be reasonable for him to accept the invite. Only, Yamcha wasn't awake. Vegeta blinked his eyes, watching as Yamcha continued to sleep, only then recognizing the soft snores of the human male. Rolling his eyes in silent laughter, Vegeta laid back down, more content than when he had first awakened. The hand at his back didn't even pause in its slow stroke. The prince took a deep breath, letting it slide out slowly. Yamcha didn't even realize what he was doing, unconsciously being affectionate. Vegeta felt boneless at that moment. The simple act was more a gift than anything the prince had ever received. He relished the chance to soak in it, wanting to never move from that spot. Slowly, though, Vegeta felt that the male under him awaken. There was no good morning greeting. There were no whispered words of affection. There was only the silence between them, and Yamcha's continued caressing. The prince waited for the moment when Yamcha would stop petting him, would withdraw that small token of affection so freely given. He didn't want it to happen, but he was waiting for it. Instead of withdrawing his hand, though, Yamcha asked out of the blue, "Do you miss it? Your tail, I mean." Vegeta blinked, raising his head to look at Yamcha's serious gaze. The hand at his back hadn't even touched the physical memory of his tail, so why Yamcha was asking about it, he had no clue. The prince thought of two different answers he could reply with, but instead he chose to answer with the truth. "Sometimes. A lot of times." "How do you deal with it being gone?" Yamcha questioned, a strange thickness to his voice. "I mean, it was a part of you." "And it will always be a part of me," Vegeta replied. "Even now, I can feel where it was, like a dull itch. But just by feeling that itch, I know that it was there and that it will always be a part of me. I had to learn how to balance without it, which wasn't any fun, but I did." Yamcha nodded his head slowly, taking in Vegeta's words. However, the prince wasn't quite done. "I had to relearn to walk after it was severed. And sometimes I still forget that it's not there, and I'll do something that will throw me off for a moment. And sometimes, if I'm not careful, I'll fall. Usually that only happens when I'm tired and not paying attention, though, or injured," the prince said thoughtfully. After a short pause, he added, "You'll always feel the scar, Yamcha. But it's up to you to relearn to walk." "Mmm. That doesn't really sound like you. So... philosophical," Yamcha said, but then he smiled warmly and hugged the saiyajin close. Vegeta shrugged, as if answering him, but returned the hug. He closed his eyes as he took another deep breath, savoring the scent of the other male. While he knew that it wouldn't take much more than a kiss for him to become fully aroused, Vegeta didn't push the issue. He opened his mouth to speak again, and the phone rang. It was a muffled cell phone ring, coming from inside the room. They both turned to look at the edge of the bed. "Damn," Yamcha muttered. "Is that your phone or mine?" "I think it's yours," Vegeta grinned, finally surrendering to the inevitable. It was time to start the day. But at least he wasn't alone in not wanting to.   



	32. Benediction

_Disclaimer- This is the end. My only friend, the end. And this is the last time you'll ever have to read one of our pretentious, bullshit disclaimers. At least for this story._

_Warnings- Like I said, this... is the end. It's been a real good ride. Thanks._ **Kingdom Come**  
~ Chapter 32 A brown tail curled in the air, its tip dancing to the soft music being played by a clock radio. Goten sat down on the edge of his and Piccolo's bed, staring at the open doorway to his closet. All kinds of colors. All kinds of clothes. Different designs, patterns, textures. It was like an abstract representation of this planet. His previous wardrobe was nowhere near this extensive. Nowhere near this colorful. His world seemed to be the darker side of this one, the one where ruthlessness and treachery were such a part of life that it was strange -not- to deal with it constantly. Goten was getting used to it, though. Another culture shock was music. Here, there were innumerable types and styles and genres. At home, there was what was popular at court and what was popular in the street and nothing like any kind of variety. A year ago, he wouldn't have thought that this was possible. This had been a mere fantasy carved from the stories Piccolo had told him. A year ago. It wasn't that long, but it seemed a lifetime. A year ago, he had allowed his heart to be ripped from his chest. A year ago, he had willingly given up the best thing that had ever happened to him. A year ago today, he watched as Piccolo and the others left his father's palace to return home. A year ago, he ascended for the first time into a super-saiyajin. He had fought his brother over Piccolo and had surprised the Golden Heir by turning golden himself. He had never thought -that- was possible. Of course, he had never thought that he would ever be able to love anyone either, or that anyone would want to get close to him without having a hidden agenda. But then Piccolo came into his life, and everything changed. Rules by which he had lived were suddenly obscure and obsolete. The royal's brow wrinkled as he frowned in thought. He knew that his home no longer existed. But that didn't stop him from wondering what -would- have happened. Would his father have returned and wondered what had happened to his youngest son? Goten snorted. Somehow he doubted it. Would Trunks and 17 have run off together and escaped the palace and all of its cruelty? Would his brother have accepted the fact that he left with Piccolo? Only one real conclusion came to him: he didn't feel bad about it. He didn't miss his world. He didn't miss his family. He didn't even miss being a prince. Maybe he should have felt some remorse, but he just... didn't. A weight settled behind him on the bed, and arms wrapped around him. "Where are you?" Piccolo's deep, sultry voice inquired. "Right here," answered Goten. He closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of Piccolo's arms wrapped around him. No matter where he was, when Piccolo held him, he felt like he was home. He wrapped his tail around the taller warrior's waist, just to add his own embrace. "Exactly where I want to be." The royal knew he didn't miss anything in his past. There wasn't anything worth keeping. He hadn't been one for keeping mementos. And it wasn't like he had any friends to give him gifts. All he had... was his name. His name was his reputation. That was where his power was. And that's all he had now. His name. He didn't have the same kind of fear-instilling reputation, and in all honesty he didn't mind that either. He had a new life now, something better than that shroud of horror he had worn. "We're going to be late," Piccolo noted, not moving to allow Goten to move. He rather liked where he was and was quite content to remain there for a few more moments. "I know," replied Goten. He stared ahead at his closet, mentally running through all the items therein. "I'm trying to decide what to wear to this festival." "It's a party. Not a festival. It only really lasts a few hours. For most people, the morning after is usually too painful to be festive," Piccolo returned, smiling. Goten snorted as he pulled away. He stood in front of the open doorway for a moment. He tried to think of who all would be there. He knew Vegeta was going to be there, as this party was at his club. Therefore, he knew that Trunks and Chibi would be there as well. Probably 18 and Krillin. Maybe Yamcha, if he was in town. '_And Gohan might be there as well._' Goten frowned at that. Just thinking about the elder demi-saiyajin had his tail curling around him protectively. It wasn't that he -hated- Gohan, but there was still a sense of suspicion. And the elder male hadn't done anything, either. It was just... Piccolo and he shared a past, and Goten was afraid that at the slightest provocation, Gohan -would- come forward and take Piccolo away from him. And then Goten would be truly alone in a strange world, surrounded by people far stronger than him and with nowhere to go. It was a useless fear, Goten knew. Yet, it was still there. With a slight grin, he pulled out his favorite suit. "Not that one," Piccolo said, coming to stand with him. "Why not?" Goten asked, turning to look at his lover. "Because if you wear it, all I'll be able to think about is getting you -out- of it, and we won't leave the house." Goten blushed. Well, it was his favorite suit for a reason. He put it back and, after a few more moments, finally decided on something a bit more casual, yet still somewhat dressy. He grinned as he eyed Piccolo, noticing the approval in his eyes. As he began dressing, he realized there wasn't any going back to the past. Not for anyone. And for Goten, he didn't even want to try. The present and the possible future were far more desirable than that part of his life. And he knew Piccolo felt the same. "This should be interesting." *** "How do you stand this shit night after night, honey?" Krillin asked 18 before taking a gulp from his beer bottle. "It's loud, obnoxious, and full of nutjobs. Heh. Actually, that sounds like it's right up Vegeta's alley." 18 smirked down at her husband, keeping one hand firmly placed on his shoulder so he couldn't get swept away by the large crowd surrounding them near the main dance floor. "It's only because of the holiday, and everyone is drunk. Makes for good business." "Business. Yeah. What is this, like, the tall people's club?" he asked. "I got nothing but asses in my face." "They all appear to be average height," observed his wife, looking around at the other patrons. "There are a few taller people but also shorter ones." "Yeah, well, I can't really tell much from my vantage point," Krillin stated. "Everywhere I look, it's asses. There's an ass there. Oh, and there's another ass. Look! An ass! Asses here, there, everywhere. Man, I hate being short sometimes." "Krillin," scolded the blonde female with an air of annoyance. "I thought you got over your whole "I'm a midget, and it fucking sucks" complex." The short bald man rolled his eyes and huffed. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. You know, I wouldn't give a damn if I could see more than other people's rear ends every which way I turn." "Well," 18 said as she bent down and kissed her husband on top of his head, "they may be taller, but you're bigger in the department that really counts." "Hmm. Good point you got there, 18," grinned Krillin. "Poor bastards." He leaned against his wife's leg, taking another swig from his bottle. Somehow managing to tune out the raucous music, Krillin realized this was the first New Year's he'd spent not at the Look-out in over a decade. Granted, the year before had been in another dimension, but it was still technically the same place. Vegeta's new club seemed to be a decent alternative, especially since they'd all agreed to discontinue celebrations at the Look-out, in light of the past two New Year's events. So much had changed in the past two years for him. He, himself, had not made any changes other than truly appreciating what he already had in this world, but it was everything else that had changed around him. People, in particular. For example, he still couldn't look Piccolo or Goten in the eye to this day. He was aware of the crowd shifting to let someone through, so he looked up briefly. Shaking his head, he muttered to himself, "Speak of the devil..." "Happy New Year," 18 greeted them flatly. Piccolo smirked. "Your enthusiasm is overwhelming. Maybe you should tone it down." "Happy New Year to you, too," Goten returned, smiling at the two shorter beings. It had taken a lot of adapting to understand the people in this dimension and their culture, including holidays and how they were celebrated, but Goten found he enjoyed it much more than he imagined. There was still more he had yet to learn, but he was confident he'd adjust. '_Thank the gods for television._' Looking for any excuse to not look up at them, Krillin focused in on their clothing and commented, "Nice threads!" "Thanks," replied the demi-saiyajin. He noticed the pint-sized male's discomfort although he wasn't sure for what reason Krillin might be out of sorts. Goten, himself, was rarely uncomfortable now; something about this world had bolstered his confidence immensely. Occasionally, however, he would get into an 'off' mood. And only one thing never failed to get him out of his funk... Getting a sly look on his face, he bent to whisper in 18's ear. He pulled back only to find a rare grin on the blonde woman's face and then chuckled as he watched her snatch up her husband and push her way up the stairs. "What was that all about?" Piccolo asked, raising one eyebrow ridge high. Goten wrapped his arms around his lover's waist and smiled. "Oh, I just reminded 18 that she has an office upstairs." "Why is that important?" "Couch. Door with a lock." "Ah." *** The air was filled with the rhythmic pulse-pounding music of some band that Yamcha knew he wasn't able to name. That didn't mean he wasn't able to enjoy it, though. It was a live band, and despite the fact that they didn't look old enough to be out of high school yet, they were actually very good. And very popular. It seemed 17 had to call in a few favors to get them to play, even though landing a live performance at Vegeta-sei was an ideal gig. Everywhere Yamcha looked, there were people. It was crowded tonight, but then, it was always crowded. The club was doing well. He stood at the bar, getting a drink before he went upstairs to join Vegeta. He was dressed especially for his prince tonight with a shirt he had Opal tailor for him. It was made to expose part of his back, particularly the scarring of the royal emblem. He hadn't worn it yet, but he knew that Vegeta would like the gesture. It was late, and he was tired, but he found that Vegeta tended to get a thrill out of him visiting the club. Yamcha grinned as he thought of how Vegeta's eyes always seemed to shine a bit brighter and how he demanded Yamcha stand beside him; close enough so that the prince could wrap his arm around the human's waist. Yamcha nodded his head as he accepted his drink. Before he had a chance to move away from the bar, though, someone decidedly NOT Vegeta tried to make a move on him. A large man, almost as large as Goku was, approached Yamcha, placing his hand on the human's rear and squeezing. Yamcha turned, his eyes wide, as the stranger leaned towards him and leered, "Hey, baby." Rolling his eyes incredulously, the scarred male laughed. "'Hey, baby'? Does that shitty line actually work for you? I mean, really. 'Cause... That's a shitty line, and you should stop using it." The stranger snorted. "Well, then. Direct approach it is. Wanna fuck?" "No," Yamcha scowled, moving past him. Unfortunately, the other man just wouldn't take the hint and clamped his large hand down hard on Yamcha's shoulder. Moving faster than the larger man could register pain, Yamcha grabbed the offending hand and turned, twisting the captured appendage as he did so and forcing the man to his knees. "Listen, I'm with someone." "Yeah? Who?" the brutish man asked, clearly not taking Yamcha's threat of violence seriously enough. "Where's good help when you need it?" Vegeta asked, suddenly appearing next to the two humans. The prince glared balefully at the large human on the ground. He knew what had happened. He had seen the entire event because he hadn't been able to take his eyes off of Yamcha since his arrival, especially considering how the human was dressed in an enticingly revealing shirt. He watched as Yamcha released his hold on the large man's wrist and backed away carefully, even though they both knew that this was one opponent Yamcha could have dispatched quite easily. The prince moved to wrap his arm around his lover's waist, a customary greeting for them. His dark eyes never left the scum that dared to touch what was his as he commanded a nearby bouncer, "Get this trash out of my club!" The banned patron turned to look at the person who was about to throw him out and came face to chest with someone even larger than himself. Even though it was his night off, Piccolo couldn't resist. Grinning down evilly at the quickly paling human, the green warrior grabbed the man by the back of his neck and led him away. Goten watched Piccolo leave with a bemused smile, waiting for him to return. The tailed prince turned to look back at the elder two males. Yamcha smiled down at the saiyajin who was currently holding him, "Hey, Prince--" "Shut up," Vegeta ordered as he pulled Yamcha down for a kiss that had a few people whistling in appreciation, and Yamcha's toes curling in pleasure. He had wanted to do that since he had seen Yamcha enter, proclaiming for the world to see that he belonged to the one and only Prince of All Saiyajins. If they had been at home, he'd have done more, but they weren't. If they had been at home, and if Vegeta had taken the night off, they would both be bare of every thing except their sweat and tears. Pressed up flush against his lover, Vegeta recalled that they had spent the previous night in such a state. He remembered falling asleep, cradled in Yamcha's arms, as the human sang to him. -That- particular action never failed to make Vegeta weak, willing to do whatever the human asked, without question. When he finally pulled away, releasing Yamcha, the prince was pleased to see the human's eyes glassed over, and the drink in his hand nearly forgotten. "I like the shirt." "Um... Y-yeah," Yamcha stuttered, laughing at himself as he blushed bright red. He shook himself visibly, trying to reorient himself. Vegeta looked away from his lover, grinning, as Piccolo reappeared. The namek almost seemed like a regular person now, with a job and a lover and a public image. He was far more sociable, almost friendly, with others. Granted, he was still a superb bouncer, intimidation coming naturally, but if someone asked him something, he was more than willing to explain the situation. Vegeta assumed it had to do with his innate mentoring nature, which had flourished with Goten at his side. The tailed prince, for his part, wasn't as innocent as any of this dimension's demi-saiyajins, but he fit in well with the darker half of the Z-fighters. Those with less than pristine backgrounds, who have as much innocent blood on their hands as corrupt. But when he was around Piccolo, there was something that Vegeta could easily recognize in Chibi and even in Trunks. It was youthful. It was innocent. It was the same look that he occasionally saw in Yamcha's eyes. With a tilt of his head, he asked the green man, "I thought I gave you the night off." "You did," Piccolo agreed, draping an arm across Goten's shoulders. The action was so effortless, so natural, that he didn't even think about it. It was like crossing his arms used to be, but now he was wrapping them around someone else. "But that one was free of charge." Vegeta nodded his head, turning to look over the throngs of people who were intent on celebrating the beginning of a new year in his club. Beside him, Yamcha turned to Goten and asked, "When did you guys get here?" "Couple minutes ago!" the demi-saiyajin prince shouted over the roar of the crowd and band. "Just long enough to talk with Krillin and 18 for a moment, and then find you two." "Hey, you guys!" a feminine voice abruptly exclaimed next to them. The four of them turned in unison as a strange blue-haired woman approached them, a large smile on her face. Yamcha was the first to recognize her. "BULMA!" "Yep!" she grinned, hugging him even though Vegeta almost refused to release his hold. She grinned and winked at Goten and Piccolo. "How are you guys?" "Good," Yamcha returned, still slightly stunned. First, shocked that the woman would actually come to Vegeta's club. From everything he'd heard, Bulma hadn't set foot inside it since the prince had bought it. Not that she was being malicious or anything; she just hadn't thought she'd enjoy herself. Even when they had been dating, clubbing was -not- Bulma's preferred pastime. Secondly, Yamcha was shocked to see her in an outfit that made her look... stunning. "Wow. Look at you!" "Look good, don't I?" Bulma said smugly. "I feel good, too. Like I could take over the world, if I wanted to. Which I don't, as that would take time away from other things. Like smoochies. Good love will do that to ya, though, don't you think... Vegeta?" "What the fuck are you talking about, woman?" Vegeta growled, though there was no real anger behind it. Mild annoyance, maybe, but that was to be expected. "What are smoochies?" Goten asked, his brow wrinkled as he tried to figure it out. Bulma tilted her head to the side and tried to think of a way of explaining the word without embarrassing herself or Goten. "Smoochies. Hmm... It's slang. It's... It's hot kisses that rob you of your breath and make your toes curl. Can include sex. Think of it like the kiss that Vegeta gave Yamcha a moment ago, and yes, I -did- see that. It was cute, too." "Hn," the saiyajin responded as he pulled Yamcha close to him again. The others caught the movement, much to their amusement. "So, who is this unfortunate sap who you've got your claws in this time?" "Oh. Out on the dance floor... With Trunks and Chibi," Bulma smiled, her face beaming with excitement and joy. "... You don't mean that... girl, do you?" Yamcha asked, looking at the only person dancing with the two demi-saiyajins. Someone he knew. Someone they -all- knew. Their favorite fashionista. Opal. "That's her," she nodded, almost giggling. She hadn't felt this alive since... well, it had been a while. "Woman... That's a girl," Vegeta said evenly, making sure that the human who had supported him for almost twenty years understood what she was doing. It would have been very disturbing to know that she had gone insane and he -hadn't- noticed. Well, more insane than she already was when they first met. "And?" Bulma asked, one eyebrow rising. "You don't date girls," Yamcha explained. "Who says?" "Says me!" "And me," Vegeta agreed, still looking at Opal. He knew she was a friend of Goten's and Yamcha's. She owned her own store. She was hardworking. Dedicated and loyal. Good traits. "Well, I thought a change could do me good," Bulma retorted, rolling her eyes at them. They were not the ones who needed to be scolding her about her choice in lovers. They were her exes after all. What did they know about her? "I don't understand. How did you two even meet?" Goten interrupted, not the least bit flustered about this turn of events, although he was slightly amused. "I was shopping for Christmas presents early, like in November, and I went in to this one store, looking for something for Trunks. She worked there. Flirted with me some. I liked it. Flirted back. Next thing I knew, she was asking me out to dinner." Bulma blushed, biting her lower lip at the end. "And I agreed." "Bulma! She's half your age!" Yamcha exclaimed. "I know! Isn't that great? -And- she doesn't even know I'm rich! That's the best part! Someone who actually likes me for me." "That has to be a first," Vegeta smirked, deciding he liked this idea. If nothing else, it kept Bulma happy, and that meant life would be peaceful for everyone... well, everyone except Opal. "Oh, shut up," she said as she stuck her tongue out at him. "Wait, wait. I think we're getting off the main topic here. Bulma. You don't like girls. Not like that," Yamcha reiterated, still not grasping the entire concept of Bulma, his ex-girlfriend, dating his friend Opal. He knew that later, when and if he did come to terms with it, he'd be worried about them, worried that one of them would do something to fuck it up and to hurt the other. But as of right that moment, there were more pressing concerns. "I like this girl like that. Did I mention she's one helluva cook? Absolutely perfect," Bulma nodded, noticing that her lady-love, Chibi, and her son were all heading in their direction. Seeing how Opal smiled at her had electric chills racing through her, and she totally missed what Yamcha said next. "This is so fucked up." "I didn't know you all knew each other. Interesting," Opal said, leaning over to the older woman. She smiled at the group of men, but her brightest smile was reserved for Bulma. "Dance with me, hmm?" The blue-haired woman waved to each of them, stopping to hug Trunks and Chibi before the two ladies made their way back onto the dance floor. "Wild, huh?" Trunks remarked as he watched his mom leave into the throng of moving bodies on the dance floor, soon swallowed along with Opal. Trunks turned back to the others, grinning. He could see Yamcha was still trying to digest the fact, though it seemed his father had simply accepted it as fact and was ready to move on. Well, his mother was in love with love and a very open person. And he knew that she did indeed enjoy her new relationship. He had known about it long enough to have the shock more or less wear off. Yamcha stood there, shaking his head a little, his mouth opening and closing as if he was struggling to say something. This turn of events left him mind-blown. "... I can't think of a thing to say. I mean... Wow. Just... Wow." "I think that covers it for everyone," Vegeta said, taking the glass from Yamcha's hand and downing the contents. The initial surprise had worn off, and now, he was content. After all, now that Bulma was otherwise occupied, it meant he didn't have to worry about her. '_Hn. With her, if she stays busy, she stays out of trouble._' The lavender-haired youth laughed slightly, turning to look at Piccolo and Goten. The two of them weren't the least bit affected by this startling piece of information and seemed to simply be enjoying themselves. He had seen them here together often enough, and occasionally, he and Chibi had even managed to drag them both out onto the dance floor. It was interesting to see the change that had occurred in Piccolo, though he knew that the tailed prince had also changed. Trunks grinned as he kissed his own lover. He could understand how a person could change when they met the love of their life although he had grown up with his. Trunks knew that he wasn't the best of friends with Piccolo and Goten, but they were at least friends, so he decided to test the boundaries of that friendship. He released his hold on Chibi to make an elegant bow to the prince. "Care to dance?" "All right," Goten agreed with a bemused grin, though still eyeing the other male warily, "but if you touch me inappropriately, I'll rip your arms off." "No touching. Got it," Trunks nodded sharply, completely serious. But then he grinned and led the way to the dance floor, making sure -not- to take Goten's hand as he cut through the crowd. They stopped a fair distance away, yet they weren't quite completely in the confining press of bodies. There was still enough room around them and between them that Goten's space was not intruded upon too greatly. Chibi watched as the two began to dance. He breathed deeply, sighing to himself. Of all the things that had happened over the last year, the one thing he felt was most remarkable to himself was the changes -HE- had made. He felt... powerful, more self-confident, prouder. He stood self-assured with his head held high. A year ago, he hadn't felt like this. He had felt like a child pretending to be an adult, and he had been. But now... things had changed. And he liked it. Piccolo could no longer see the two dancing as the crowded dance floor shifted and moved, like waves in the ocean obscuring his vision. He looked towards Vegeta and Yamcha only to see the two swaying where they were, dancing to their own music. He could see Yamcha's lips moving, but it was something that even the namek's overly sensitive ears couldn't hear, especially with the band playing as loud as it was and the ear plugs in his ears. Since they were lost in their own little world, that left the green warrior to amuse himself. He turned to see Chibi still watching the crowd, a look of light boredom marring his youthful features. With a smirk, he went over to the young demi-saiyajin. He grabbed the youth by the hand and proceeded to drag him out onto the dance floor, the place he had been watching so wistfully. "Come on." There was very little room to move out on the dance floor, but Piccolo led them to a relatively unoccupied area. He had to push a few people out of his way to do so, but then, most of them were more than happy to get out of his way. Finally, they arrived in a corner of the dance floor, close enough to one of the large speakers that Piccolo could almost feel every beat pulse through his body. He smirked as he turned to Chibi and began dancing with him. Chibi grinned, looking around at where they were. It was a dark corner, well away from where he had last seen Goten and Trunks. And even though Piccolo had managed to get a few people out of the space, the two of them were still pressed up close together. The demi-saiyajin suppressed his giggles. It was a cheap thrill, he knew, but it was still a thrill. He couldn't help becoming slightly aroused by the situation but was grateful that Piccolo either didn't notice or didn't pay it any attention. Had it not been for all the other people dancing around them and forcing Piccolo and Chibi to be dancing so closely that they may as well have been dry humping on the dance floor, Piccolo might not have noticed the aroused state of the other male. As it was, he was pretending not to notice. He understood how dancing like they were could have that kind of effect on a person; it wasn't as if it hadn't happened many times before with himself and Goten. Of course, in those cases, it had led to extremely passionate sex shortly thereafter. And it didn't help that Chibi had slowly become nearly a dead-ringer for his Goten over the past few months. But that wasn't going to stop him from enjoying himself. It was just dancing, after all. All too soon, the song ended, and the duo made their way back towards Yamcha and Vegeta at the bar, only to find that Trunks and Goten had beaten them there. When the other two saw them return, Trunks looked questioningly at Chibi, while Goten didn't even have time to think about it as Piccolo gave him a huge, breathtaking kiss. "Wow," breathed the royal demi-saiyajin once the kiss ended. No sooner had he uttered the word than were champagne flutes being shoved into his and everyone else's hands in the group. Moving around to each of them, a waitress filled each glass with a crystalline, bubbly liquid. Vegeta, examining the contents of his glass, stated," It's supposed to be the best champagne in the world. If it tastes like piss, I'm blowing France off the face of the planet." "I'll help," smirked Piccolo. "Never much cared for the French." "What is this for?" Goten asked, peering down into the tall glass. Effervescent bubbles rose up and tickled his nose, causing him to jerk back sharply. "Traditional celebration thingy," pointed out Yamcha. "You count down the last ten seconds, yell 'happy new year!' at midnight, kiss your lover if you've got one, and then drink. You know. Traditional thingy." Trunks craned his neck, looking around for a clock. "How much time do we have left anyway? And why the fuck don't you guys have a clock up? I mean, hell-o. New Year's. The clock's, like, a big deal." "You can't be this stupid," Vegeta mused, swirling the champagne in his glass. "I refuse to believe that. Would someone show my idiot child where the -gigantic- fucking clock is?" Chibi lightly took the lavender-haired demi-saiyajin's chin in one hand and turned his face towards the stage. "Babe. Above the stage. -Really- big." Trunks looked in the direction towards with Chibi directed him. And that's when he saw it. He had thought it a prop or some kind of new wall art. It took up almost all of the available space above the stage, after all. He blushed as he turned to the others, "I knew that." "Liar," snorted his father. The conversation within the group went on idly until the band stopped playing and the lead singer announced, "Hey, guys an' dolls, grab a drink and grab a hot body to plant your lips on! Only thirty seconds to midnight!" *** A single flake of snow drifted down from an overcast sky, an ethereal herald of what was soon to occur. There was a space between the light of the streets below and the darkness of the snow-pregnant sky. It was a strange sort of limbo, where the gargoyles of some of the more European-styled buildings deigned to watch the festivities of the annual holiday. Amongst the stone observers, there was another lone being that sat with them, yet his thoughts carried him away from the cold and the damp. Gohan sat propped up on one large stone figure, one leg dangling down. He had his helmet off, and the bitter December air whipped past him fast and cold, biting at his ears and nose. He enjoyed its sting, though, enjoyed it more because he was alone in it. Videl was at her father's house, enjoying a normal New Year's Eve party with normal people. He smiled as he took in a deep lungful before exhaling. This was a night of transition, where the old year ended and a new one began. Two years ago, he had spent this night trying to fix his marriage. He had tried to force himself into a mold for which he was never really designed. Ultimately, he knew that he would never be able to be the person that he had thought everyone wanted him to be. It made him unhappy. It made him a bit stir-crazy. It wasn't what he wanted for himself. He wanted to be free. Free, like he was in his childhood when he wasn't with his mother. Free, like when he was training with Piccolo. Gohan smiled as he thought of Piccolo, a small smile filled with love and regret. A year ago today was the day that changed his entire world. Piccolo had brought back Goten, the little prince who was just as displaced as Gohan was, only in a different way. It had taken him a while, almost a full year, but Gohan was almost able to accept that Piccolo and Goten were together. There was no denying the fact that they loved each other. And he knew that he would grant them their deserved happiness. He did have the satisfaction, however, of knowing that Goten was so self-conscious about Piccolo's and his past as to make it a point to threaten him. He had been pissed off at first, but after he had mulled it over, he realized that Goten was afraid of him. Not afraid of his physical power, but afraid of Gohan trying to steal Piccolo back. It was nice to think that Goten thought he had a chance. Goten loved Piccolo the way he wished he could love Videl. But it just wasn't in him to love her that much, that all-consuming. He didn't feel guilty about it, either. It wasn't as if Videl loved him that passionately. In fact, if it wasn't for the fact that sometimes they were actually able to laugh and joke with each other, he'd think she didn't like him at all. Sometimes they could get along. Sometimes they were even affectionate with each other. But those times were coming few and farther between. Actually, he couldn't remember the last time they'd spoken a civil word to each other. Wet, white flakes of snow flew at him, dancing in the wind. Not even the elements wanted to forego this party. The solitary demi-saiyajin took off one of his gloves and held out his hand, capturing a few flakes in his palm, allowing them to melt instantly. Water turned to ice, rain to snow, but they both melted back. Perhaps, given enough warmth and the opportunity, Gohan's life could melt back into something more than the ice-sculpture it had become. He knew Videl was as unhappy as he was. And he knew that they had tried everything of which they could think and even tried a few suggestions others had made. But none of them worked. It was to the point that their marriage was simply... dead weight. Perhaps what they both needed... was to be free. It seemed that every year for the past few, this night held something life altering for him. And this was no exception. Gohan sighed as he took off his ring. He stared at his naked hand for a moment and then wiggled his fingers. He grinned a moment before he slipped his glove back on. It felt strange to have the glove on his hand and not have the ring there as well. At the same time, though, it felt rather good. Uplifting. He knew how clichéd it was to be thinking all of this at this particular time on this particular night, but he also realized that it wouldn't be so clichéd if it weren't completely and totally accurate. It wouldn't be so trite and cheesy if it weren't absolutely true. A new year meant a new beginning. Gohan smiled as he made a grab for his helmet. "It's a brand new year."  
~: THE END :~  
***  
  
_To the readers:  
  
Thank you so much for taking the time to read 'Kingdom Come'. We know it's really long and that a lot of folks might not have the patience for it. But for those of you who have stuck with us throughout the whole thing, we truly appreciate it. Some of you have even reviewed nearly every chapter; to you, we send our eternal gratitude. Every little, "Good chapter," means something to us.  
  
Thank you again,  
Deani & Summer_  
  



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Dragon Ball Z, Angst, Romance